We're Loyal
by Calico West
Summary: COMPLETE. Enemies from the past return to bring trouble to Jess and Slim.
1. Chapter 1

**We're Loyal**

Chapter One

It was still morning, as the clock above the desk clearly stated, but it was drawing close enough to noontime that those who lived and worked at the ranch decided that the morning work was done, to return to the house for a meal, only to put muscle and might back into the work in the afternoon.

Three men on horseback, not caring what any clock or watch stated, rode as silently as their mounts could walk down the slope to the Sherman ranch house. Once stopped at the hitching rail, the leader stayed on horseback, the only part of his body that showed any type of movement was his eyes as they roamed back and forth searching his surroundings. The other two men dismounted without a command to do so, each knowing their duties before their feet even hit dirt. One entered the house, the other with a swift run towards the barn, but both returned a moment later with the declaration that the place was vacant. It was perfect for their plans, as if the men who belonged at the house had agreed to the arrangement before the day began.

Lowering himself from his horse, the man in charge, gray haired and weathered, but not weakened in stealth and stature, gave instructions for their mounts to be stashed behind the barn as he stepped into the house, looking at everything as if he was assessing the room for its value. The three of them had been there before, but never stepped inside until now. The interior was as he would have expected it, without frills or finery, but every inch held the mark of a strong-willed man, or two.

He sat down in a chair, rocking silently as he waited for the two others to join him. When the door opened he smiled, his scruffy beard bending with the action as he knew they'd just gone passed the first step of their quest. He pointed to the window and with a firm nod, one man placed himself there to watch and with a jerk of his thumb towards the kitchen, the other man took quick steps to fill the doorway with his frame. With both sets of eyes on the incoming roadway, the man rested his head back on the chair and folded his arms over his chest. It felt good to be in this position, not just to say that he could relax, but that he was ready. They were all ready, now they just had to wait. At that moment, the hands on the clock ticked its last movement, coming together at the number twelve.

"Coming," the single word came from the man that rested his knee on the couch under the window, his pistol being clutched with his hand.

"How many?" The leader continued to rock in the chair, not even turning his head towards the one who'd spoke.

"One," the reply somehow seemed shorter than the single syllable word.

"Which one?" This brought a bearded face towards the one doing the observing.

"Can't tell from this distance," the eyes squinted, but the sunlight was bright, so the features remained unrecognizable.

Outside of that window, in a perfectly straight line aiming towards the house, the single rider steadily rode. His blue eyes that were focused on the familiar sight in front of him showed no concern, as there wasn't any indication that anything was abnormal in his vision. He was always looking for signs of trouble, as it just came naturally for those that lived in the western wilds of the Wyoming Territory to do so, but there wasn't any way he could see what waited inside of the house for him. He rode alone, for the man he called partner and friend had been away from the ranch for the past three days, leaving the ranch duties on his firm shoulders. He could handle it alone, but he could never say he liked it that way.

The rider pulled to a stop and dismounted, his hands going to his holster to straighten the gun that he wore at his hip. It had to feel just right, always, even if he was alone, because a life could depend on that gun. He gave a gentle rub to his faithful horse, and then with even strides, he glided onto the front porch, his features now fully evident to the ones watching from inside. He was scrutinized with eyes of hatred, but the remainder of the surroundings that saw his presence on an almost daily basis always viewed him with much more admiration.

His frame was what some would note as perfect. From the hat that rested on his sometimes untamed locks all the way down to the dusty boots, the man's body was strong enough to fight with the toughest ruffians but gentle enough to dance with the fairest maidens. His shoulders were solid, that underneath his faded work shirt showed his firmly shaped muscles that bulked with a simple act of flexing or under the strain of heavy labor. His chest, with smooth lines that cut down to a trim waist, often begged to be exposed through an unbuttoned shirt or left completely bare for the sunlight to turn the skin a sensual golden brown. His evenly proportioned hips were clad with form fitting jeans and covered with a pair of worn chaps that swished around his legs as he walked, with steps that were always in a steady stride, with feet that were forever in a pair of dirty, well-worn boots.

The man had a tingle race down his backbone and his grip should have paused on the doorknob, but his gloved hand opened the door, far away from the gun that would have protected him. When his foot touched the inside of the house, two different pairs of hands came alongside of the doorway and grabbed him tight, throwing him to the ground, face first to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Harper."

The voice belonged to a man who had his foot placed firmly in the middle of Jess' back, keeping him pinned to the ground. From his position flat on the floor, his face nearly flushed with the wooden boards, Jess could not see the man who belonged to the foot that he was underneath or the other men that surrounded him, but only by sense he guessed that the number of his adversaries equaled three. The man's voice, however, Jess knew, but placing it with accuracy would take more than just the single word of his own name spoken. He obviously knew Jess and had expected his arrival, for his name had been quickly uttered not long after Jess had hit the floor. The distinctive hatred dispelled in the sound from his lips wasn't missed by Jess' ears either.

"What do you want?" Jess asked, but his mouth being pressed close to the floor made the words come out more muffled than they were meant to. If he'd been in a better position, the sound would have been like his question had been backed with gravel and he just might have spit some of those stones in their faces as well, or even better, fired bullets.

Jess felt one of the men kneel alongside of him and a hand start to slide his gun from its holster and sensing the exact presence near his right hip, Jess made a jab with his leg to knock the man over before his gun was fully removed, but before that action could be completed, another boot came down hard on the backside of his knee, bringing his teeth tightly together to silence any retort from pain coming through his lips.

"I suppose you're aiming to find out what I want," the man that spoke had a different tone to his voice. There was definitely a hint of a backwoodsman sound in his words but there was no mistaking the obvious bite of a bear that came with it and Jess somehow knew he'd use that hostile bite if necessary. "Likely you'll do so the hard way. Why do you always have to act like an ornery sidewinder?"

"Maybe if you'd get your foot outta my back I'd be more cordial," Jess tried to move his head to put his gaze away from the floor and up to his antagonist, but in his attempt, the man put even more pressure into his back, bringing his mouth open to expel a rush of air through his lips. He knew then that this man was dangerous, but Jess still had yet to place him. The man knew him, too well perhaps, as there was little doubt in that.

"Want me to club him over the head, Pa?" One of the men beside Jess spoke as he took a step closer to Jess' head and it was this voice that brought forward a deeper memory to the surface of his mind.

Pa. That meant this was more than a just a gang of outlaws, but a family of outlaws. A conniving, threatening, thieving, eerily familiar family, whose only pleasure in life was to make life miserable to the people they attacked. A group like that could only come from Texas. Laredo, to be exact. In that instant Jess knew who he was up against.

McCanles!

The moment Jess made the recognition his mind went backwards with a whirlwind of memories, from the day the ruthless gang nearly had him hung in Laredo to the most recent encounter when Troy came calling, presumably to woo him. Her arrival had done nothing but rankle Jess in every way, yet somehow Troy won Slim's heart before the rest of the family came intruding instead. Troy, the name brought more than the image of her face and the sound of her voice to Jess' mind, but sent a menacing quiver down his backbone and Jess couldn't help but wonder about the unruly female as she was so apt in calling the shots when it came to his fate. Where was Troy in all of this? The two sons that hovered over him that obeyed Ezra McCanles' every command Jess recalled as Homer and Virgil, definitely the type of outlaws he could do without. He could have done without them all, back in Texas, when Troy and Slim were courting and again right now, but this time he was thrust right into the middle of the very worst of it all.

"Where's Sherman?" The demanding question brought a grinding motion from the foot into Jess' back.

Jess squirmed under the pressure of Ezra's boot, knowing now why he hadn't already been filled with lead. He wasn't the one they had come for. They were after Slim. In the seconds that ticked by in silence as Jess refused to answer the question, despite the fact that this vile group of outlaws were targeting his partner for an unknown reason, Jess couldn't help but draw a half smile to his mouth. Since McCanles was asking about Slim's whereabouts, none of them had any knowledge that Slim wasn't anywhere near Laramie. That gave Jess an advantage, but he also knew they wouldn't take his refusal to respond lightly and if his thought process was trailing in the same direction of Ezra and his sons, retaliation was about to come.

"I asked you a question, Harper," Ezra snapped his fingers and gave a quick motion towards Homer.

Jess raised his eyes as Homer's foot came within inches of his nose and then when something that might have been considered a giggle if it had come from a woman's mouth tickled in Homer's throat, he pulled his neck sharply to the left to avoid a swift kick in his ear. The boot met his shoulder with enough force that Jess' body jerked aside, bringing Ezra's foot out from the middle of his back. That was all that Jess needed to be freed. He leapt to his feet, his right hand being already balled into a fist it met Homer's jaw in one swift movement, knocking the outlaw into the fireplace. It was too bad there hadn't been anything lit.

Virgil jumped on Jess' back as Homer scrambled to his feet, bringing a forceful slap across Jess' mouth, the sting evidence enough that the skin on his lip had been broken. Jess kicked, sending Homer back towards the fireplace, but Ezra grabbed his son's arm and shoved him back in front of Jess before he hit the cold ashes a second time. Jess was ready for the second punch that Homer threw and braced himself, and when it hit alongside his jaw, he twisted his torso and bent his shoulders, rolling Virgil away from his back. Jess reached for Virgil's arm and with a powerful push, he shoved the man into his pa, both men staggering together as they tumbled into the rocking chair, but unfortunately for Jess, they didn't hit the ground and all three suddenly surrounded him, poised and ready for attack.

Jess had beaten Homer into the ground at their last encounter, but during that fight it was just the two of them while Virgil and the elder McCanles had stood by watching the brawl in the saloon, enjoying every punch and slap as they sipped their mugs of beer. Now, he was facing all three, and each face portrayed a determination to win that came only from a unified source. A family that fought together could easily win together, and as strong as a fighter that Jess was, he knew the odds were against him. Yet Jess had his own source of willpower coursing through his veins. He was fighting for Slim and even if they were going to take him down, Jess would not allow their victory to come easily. Each man would receive several stout punches from Jess' firm hand before the fight began to heavily sway against him.

Jess put his fist into Virgil's face at the same time as a boot from Homer came sharply into his abdomen. Reeling backwards from the kick, Jess' body was thrown to the wall by a father's retaliating hands and Jess felt his body start to slip to the ground, but before he lowered himself more than a couple of inches, Virgil was hoisting him back up, allowing Homer to place all of his fiery vengeance into Jess' tightly clenched jaw. When Ezra gave the command to stop, Jess stepped away from the wall, his hand, ever ready to pound into deserving flesh, reached out to Homer's sinister grinning face, but Jess wouldn't get to make any impact. He stood still for a moment, his every ounce of strength being put into his swing and then Virgil struck Jess from behind just below his neck and then he was no longer standing.

Jess dropped to the ground roughly, the sound of his body meeting the floor making a sickening thud on impact but in his internal defiance he refused to stay on the ground. Jess slowly raised himself from the floor by his hands, but only his chest, shoulders and head would obey, as the remainder of his body stayed level with the floor. Jess breathed heavily as he tried to push himself higher up, but his strength couldn't bring him any further. A patch of wet warmth that oozed from his forehead brought his eyes to look back to the floor where he'd landed and he saw a group of bright red splatters that were quickly growing into a puddle. Blood dripped from every corner of his face and for a moment, all he could see was Slim's reflection in his life source, for it was for his partner that it was being cruelly shed.

"Tell me where Sherman is!" Ezra shouted and nearly everything in the room trembled, even the man's two sons, but Jess kept his body steady.

"I ain't telling you nothing," Jess spat the words out, receiving a hard kick in his left side from the foot of Ezra at his terse reply, bringing a haggard cough out from his lungs.

"We can keep this up a lot longer than you can," Ezra snarled, ready to kick or beat Harper again and again, or whatever else it would take to get what he wanted.

"Try me," Jess growled in response. His willingness to take everything the McCanles gang threw at him for Slim's sake shone in his eyes, although no one in the room could see the brotherly spark that was lit there.

"Let's kill him, Pa," Virgil said excitedly, pulling his gun from his holster, his finger ready to pull the trigger at his father's command.

"We can't do that, you lame brain," Ezra pushed Virgil's gun slightly so it wasn't at a deadly aim to Jess' head. "How can he tell us where Sherman is if you put a bullet in his skull?"

"But he ain't talking, Pa," Virgil scowled at his father but put his gun back where it belonged. Now wasn't the time to defy his pa, even if he'd always hated how he often berated both of his sons with insulting names.

"He'll talk. Pick him up off the ground, Homer," Ezra waited until Homer did as he was instructed and then as Homer held Jess upright with his arms pinned tightly around his back, Ezra stepped up to Jess and looked him in the eye. "I ain't a patient man, Harper, and I think I've used every little speck of it up already on you. Now you better tell me where Sherman is, right now!"

"I'll die before I tell you a dad-gummed thing!" Jess glared back at Ezra the best that he could with one eye already swelling shut and the other having a consistent drip of blood coming down around his eyelid, but in that look alone was enough to show his enemy that he meant every single word.

"He's asking for it, Pa," Homer gripped Jess' arms even tighter, the wince that it caused was only a small portion of the actual pain that had been seared into his flesh.

"Seems to me I recall that Harper here has an extra fondness for ropes," Ezra jerked the handkerchief off of Jess' neck, exposing his neck and throat. After tossing the kerchief aside, Ezra took two fingers and traced a circle around Jess' neck, a gesture to remind everyone in the room that Jess had nearly been sent to the grave when Troy turned a lynch mob after him. Jess needed little reminder and the wicked grin that spread through Ezra's graying beard showed that his beady eyes were viewing his near hanging all over again. "Let's see if that strange affection will change his mind."

With a forceful push from Homer's hands, Jess was through the door, his stamina the only thing keeping him upright on his feet. Jess watched as Virgil swiped the rope off of his own horse, created a loop, and then slowly walked towards his position with the foreboding rope swaying in his hands. Homer began to laugh, unlike before when it was a high pitched chuckle, it now poured from his mouth like he was a cackling hyena, the repeated peals prickling Jess' skin like he was being jabbed with thorns. His neck, however, felt the rope, even as it was still being held in Virgil's hand.

Ezra crept close to Jess, his weathered face a peculiar combination of amusement and abhorrence as he visualized in his mind how he'd finally persuade Jess Harper, the only thing that stood in his way in his quest for Slim Sherman, to bend to his demands. He watched as the tension mounted in Harper's face and he knew the rope would finish what he and his sons had started. All they needed now was to tie the knot.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Once a rope was tied to a man's neck, the feeling of its deathly grip could never be forgotten. Jess was one of the few men to live to remember such a feeling and his neck was recoiling from the memory before the loop touched his skin. He kept his gaze on Virgil as he stepped closer to him, knowing that in a few short seconds he would be wearing the harsh necktie. Jess would never run from impending doom, no matter how grim his fate, so he kept his stance solid as Virgil stopped in front of him, the noose ready to be fitted around his neck. When it dropped over his head, Virgil gave a stout yank, pulling it tight enough to make a low noise rumble through Jess' throat.

"How does it feel, Harper?" Ezra grabbed Jess by the shoulders from behind and turned him so that they faced one another. He jabbed a finger into Jess' neck above the rope, smiling slightly as he could feel the rapid rate of his heartbeat, glad to know that despite the unwavering stance that Jess showed, his inner turmoil was boiling. "Is it tight enough to make you talk?"

Jess kept his angry retort silenced. He had said before, not just to McCanles, but to other criminals that had threatened his partner, that he would die before he betrayed Slim, and now that he was facing certain death, the determination to go to the grave in silence for Slim's sake was only intensified. But despite knowing that his death could keep his partner alive, Jess felt a sharp tear form in the middle of his heart and through to the depths of his soul for with his death, Slim would surely still suffer.

"Then I guess you're bound and determined to hang," Ezra's smile dissolved as the furrows deepened on his forehead. "Let's get to it, boys."

"There's a good tree up there, Pa," Homer pointed towards a tree up on the slope that overlooked the ranch house.

"It's too close to the house, you ninny," Ezra slapped Homer on his arm as if he figured the action would knock some added sense into his son. "Do you want Harper's body found as soon as the next stage rolls in here? Stay with Harper, Virgil."

"Then where at, Pa?" Homer followed behind his pa as he quickly walked to where the horses had been hidden behind the barn.

"We'll take him down the south road a piece and then go a mile or so off into the brush," Ezra explained as they retrieved their mounts. "With nothing around but vermin to find his carcass, he'll know then that we're really aiming to hang him and he'll tell us where Sherman is."

"But what if he still won't talk?" Homer asked as he wrapped his hand around the reins of both his and Virgil's mounts to lead them to where his brother and Harper waited.

"He will," Ezra said with certainty. "No one could be that devoted to a friend."

But Jess Harper was.

Jess was hoisted into Virgil's saddle, the reins of the horse being held by Homer as he and Virgil shared a mount. They all rode silently on the south road until they came to a bend and there they turned onto a rarely used trail, keeping a steady pace for nearly a mile until a trained eye spotted the perfect tree to do a dastardly deed. Once stopped, three men dismounted, all casting their eyes up to the man that remained in the saddle with his neck bound in a noose. With an easy toss, the rope sailed up and over a limb, its end dangled only momentarily before Ezra took it in his hands.

"He doesn't look so mean now, does he, Virgil?" Homer poked his brother in the ribs.

"Kinda tame if you ask me," Virgil replied with a grunt.

"Well, here we are, Harper. The hour of your hanging has finally come, just a few years late. In case you were thinking during our ride here that I've been bluffing," Ezra tugged on his end of the rope to make Jess wince, "think again. I'll enjoy seeing you swing as your life drains away into nothingness."

"You're making him squirm, Pa!" Homer shouted and then added one of his irritating chuckles at the end of his exclamation.

"I could easily let you go, you know," Ezra held the rope loosely in his hands as if he was ready to drop it to the ground, "if you would just only start to talk. Why don't you tell me where Sherman is?"

"I ain't got a good enough reason," Jess said defiantly, his gaze focused straight ahead of him.

"I do." There was a lengthy pause as everything around them seemed to hold its breath. Even the leaves on the tree Jess sat underneath wouldn't move. "Troy's dead." Ezra's tone was cold and deadpanned, his heart breaking again with the truth of his words coming from his mouth.

Jess whipped his head around to look at the grayed head that was bowed towards the ground, the look of sadness around his eyes told Jess that he was not telling a lie to persuade him to talk. He felt like he'd been given another blow in the chest, but alone atop of the horse, none of his adversaries were close enough to strike him. "How?"

"She wanted to cut away from the gang," Ezra's voice shed its sorrowful tones as the anger he felt deep inside of him began to jump out of his mouth. "She was still smitten with Sherman and wanted to break away to be with him. I told her not to, but she didn't listen to me. What lovesick child listens anyway? She took off at night, riding like the wind. We found her body the next morning. No one killed her outright, for we found the sad evidence that her horse must've stumbled and thrown her. Accidents happen, but Sherman is responsible for this."

Jess felt the heavy emotion of remorse run through his heart and head as he processed the news that Troy was dead. He was sorry and in a normal situation, a sympathetic response would have come easily from his mouth to McCanles' ears, but now that he sat atop of Virgil's horse with his neck in a noose and the blame of Troy's death thrust completely onto Slim, anything he would have said in sympathy remained silent.

Despite how he had treated Troy in the past, Jess felt a hollow place form inside of him from the loss of her life. She'd done everything in her power to cause him harm, even swapping his life for her pa and brother's lives. He'd been aggravated, peeved, ready to turn her over his knee and would have had every right to do so, but he didn't hate her. Strangely, they had been more alike than he ever would have wanted to admit. Troy was hot-headed, strong, sharp-tongued and wily like a fox. She also had lied, stolen and fought, but there was an unknown side of Troy too, for she'd laughed and cried and fluttered her eyes, proving that she was more of a woman than most people would have ever known. Slim had somehow seen past what Jess never could have. And now she was gone. In his heart Jess grieved, for Troy, but also for Slim, for his partner was suffering losses he didn't even know existed yet.

Jess pulled his misted gaze away from Ezra and looked towards the man's two sons, their expressions nearly identical to their pa's. He'd known the McCanles gang for years, but he'd never seen them in this manner and it was a striking scene to take in. He'd seen them at their worst, and if he'd seen them at their best, it still could have been considered the lower end of pleasant relationships. He'd known their family to often squabble and fight, act unruly and it wasn't abnormal for them to belittle or berate one another. Troy herself acted like she at times never wanted to see her pa or brothers again, but if she had really meant it or not, Jess had never fully known. With all of the dark shadows that had been between them, it was hard to see the McCanles family overwrought with real sadness.

"I know we bicker some," Ezra explained as if he had been reading Jess' thoughts. "But what family doesn't have a ruckus or two? That doesn't mean we don't love each other. Love is just another word for loyal, and that's what we are and that's why we're here. We're loyal to Troy, from the beginning to the end. She's dead now, but we can't come to a full end in this until Sherman meets his fate. Because of him, my little girl is dead. I'm not going to sit still for that. So you understand now why I want him," Ezra stepped close to the horse's head to look Jess better in the eye. "You have one last chance to tell me where he is because I'm done waiting."

Jess' response was a simple shake of his head, his defiance shining in his eyes showing his answer more than the left to right motion that his head moved. He knew and understood family loyalty, but he wasn't about to explain his devotion aloud to McCanles in the same manner as the older man had poured out his heart to him. His actions would have to speak for him, for Slim wasn't just his friend or his partner, Slim was family. Jess was about to die to prove it.

"So be it," Ezra turned his back to Jess and then handed the rope to his son, the anger radiating from his entire being. "Homer, do the duty."

"With pleasure, Pa," Homer answered, rubbing his hands together like a child who was getting rewarded with a favorite prize. "It's been a long time coming."

Jess was seated on a stationary horse, his hands folded together on the saddle horn. His body was motionless with the exception of his chest that rose and fell with his steady breathing. He didn't fear the noose, but as he glanced upward towards the line that draped over a tree limb directly above his head, beads of sweat started running down his face. Homer tightly held the end of the rope in his hands, his wicked grin growing as he drew closer to Jess. His body language showed that he didn't care that Jess was about to die, and with each step that he took closer to Jess was purely taken to taunt the man that they were about to hang as he unmercifully prolonged the event before he would tie his end securely near the base of the tree. Homer tugged on the rope as he circled the horse and then in his overconfident stride, he made a mistake, he stepped within range of Jess' leg.

With a forceful thrust, Jess put his boot into Homer's face, knocking the man to the ground, the end of the rope that he held instantly was released as his hands covered his bloody nose and the pressure on Jess' neck was loosened. Freedom only moments away, Jess hunched low over the horse's neck as he gave the command to run, turning onto a path that would soon block him from the McCanles gang's view.

"Harper's getting away, Pa!" Virgil shouted, his hand pulling a knife from the sheath at his side as it was this weapon that he possessed the most skill. He jumped over a fallen log to get in front of Jess and then readied himself for an accurate throw.

There was a time during the saloon brawl between Homer and Harper that Virgil yielded his knife. If Ezra hadn't been standing next to his son to stop him from throwing the weapon then, he would have ended Jess' life. Now, Ezra wasn't anywhere close to Virgil's side and the knife was taking its aim. The blade glinted in the sunlight as it was hurtled through the air, coming to a stop as its sharp end stabbed into flesh. The shout that came from the victim's lips made a swell of pride burn in Virgil's core and he couldn't help but leap into the air with the thrill of victory.

Jess gasped as the pain intensified when his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife and yanked it free. His body, contorting from the throbbing wound, made Jess lose his balance in the saddle and no amount of righting himself could put his backside in a better position. Jess fell to the ground, the hard surface not bending underneath him as he landed, the jarring pain so sharp that any other man would have succumbed to the pain and fallen into oblivion. Jess pulled his legs tightly to his chest and dropped his head to be level with the ground, his left hand closing over the pulsating wound near his right shoulder.

"You're going to pay for that, Jess," Homer growled out his words as he stood over Jess, the bullets in his gun ready to give proper retaliation as blood continued to trickle from his nose.

"Hold it," Ezra held Homer's arm, preventing him from putting a precise aim from his gun into Jess' back. With his other hand he pointed towards a nearby trail and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Someone's coming. We best skedaddle."

"We can't leave him here, Pa," Virgil said with a panicked voice when he saw his pa leading Homer towards the horses. "He'll get away."

"Look at him writhing on the ground," Ezra motioned towards Jess. "He ain't going nowhere anytime soon, but we could be hauled off to jail if whoever that is that's coming finds us here with him. Likely he'll die anyway from that knife wound you gave him. Come on, there's other ways to finding Sherman."

Jess blinked his eyes rapidly, almost wondering if he had slipped unconscious and was dreaming that he'd been left alone as the McCanles gang scurried away in the brush. They left in skilled silence, but whoever was approaching came in the complete opposite. Someone was singing loudly, perhaps a mite drunkenly, but it was a voice that quickly registered into Jess' senses. Pete Dixon, which meant his brother Len was probably with him. It was a good thing McCanles didn't know that Len and Pete Dixon were more renegades than upstanding citizens, or likely they wouldn't have scrambled away so quickly. But their presence bought Jess time only and not the help he needed, for the Dixon brothers were not in a straight line to his location unlike what the McCanles gang had assumed, but were only riding aimlessly through the brush, not even hearing a call out from Jess above their own din as they ambled back towards the main road.

When everything around him turned to a complete quiet, Jess pulled himself to his feet. He was far from steady as he wobbled enough from his first few steps that he had to reach out a hand to a tree trunk for support, but he still carried enough grit inside of him to know he would be able to carry on. He pulled the noose away from his neck and dropped it to the ground, kicking it aside like he was discarding trash. Jess groaned as he turned his eyes to his wound. The knife had sliced into nothing vital, although the blood that he had lost could argue as it was a very crucial source for Jess' life. It hurt, as did most of his body, but the bursts of pain that seared down his right arm from his shoulder made Jess worry that his ability to handle a gun would be dramatically reduced.

His injuries weren't all that was being processed in his mind. Jess could be broken into a multitude of pieces and it wouldn't matter, because the only thing that was important to him was that Slim was safe. He'd kept Slim's whereabouts a secret and as only one or two others knew where he'd gone, the McCanles gang wouldn't be locating Slim anytime soon. Even though Jess had willingly been ready to die, for now he was still alive, and whatever he'd do, he was determined to make sure Slim kept right on living too. The challenge he faced first in his ongoing battle was to take the arduous walk home.

His steps weren't steady, his stride wasn't even, but Jess pushed onward, one tender step at a time until he reached the point in the road where the house came into sight. There he paused, taking in the details of what lay below him, not knowing if there were unwelcomed intruders lurking once again. He took a steady breath and continued towards the house, keeping his senses alerted. Jess noted the stillness around the house as he approached, for a moment a swell of gratitude surged in his chest that the McCanles gang seemed to be nowhere in sight, but then his eyes flicked to the hitching post outside of the front door. His horse wasn't there anymore, but standing unsaddled in the corral. Someone had been there, someone that knew what to do when they found Jess' horse needing attention. Someone like…

Ignoring the pain that seized his body, Jess started to run, wanting to call out his partner's name, but he kept his tongue silenced, as if the fear of not receiving any answer would somehow stop his heart. But it would feel as if it did so anyway. His body suddenly grew as cold as if he'd been stricken by a winter chill. Jess slid to a halt, his breath suspended in air and his chest literally gave a sharp jolt at what he saw. A body, partially concealed behind the water trough, lay unmoving in the dirt.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

With only a pair of legs sticking out from behind the water trough, Jess suffered agonizing blow after blow to his chest with each hurried step that he took, not knowing exactly what he'd find until the motionless body was in full view. Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt when Jess stepped over the man in the dirt, a moan ready to be expelled through his lips, but with his throat so dry it came out closer to a whimper. The man on the ground was the Sherman ranch's oldest part time worker, Ben.

Jess kneeled in the dirt beside him, his hands gently turning the older man over and he immediately winced as he saw the dark colored welt above the battered man's eye. Jess rested his hand on Ben's chest, as he needed to do more than just see the weak movements of his breathing, but feel the rhythm of his lungs at work to prove that he was still alive. Jess moved his hand to touch the swollen forehead, this bringing a groan from deep inside of Ben, but the reaction to his pain wouldn't arouse him fully. Jess pulled out a handkerchief that was sticking out of the man's pocket and after plunging it into the cool water beside them, Jess tenderly wiped away the bits of dirt that had clung to Ben's sweat stained face and then held the damp cloth over the pulsating wound. The groans became more frequent and then Ben's body jerked as he started to pull free from the darkness.

"Easy, Ben," Jess said softly, "you need to lie still."

"That you, Jess?" Ben tried to pull his head up, but Jess kept his hands on the man's shoulders to keep him down.

"Yeah," Jess answered with a nod, even though with Ben's eyes still closed he couldn't see the action.

"Good," Ben tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace instead.

"Who did this to you?" Jess asked the question he already knew the answer to.

"Three sidewinders." This confirmation from Ben's lips brought Jess' teeth so tightly together that his jaw hurt like he'd just been punched squarely again. He shouldn't have been there as Ben hadn't been asked to assist Jess while Slim was away, but he must have stopped by for some friendly chatter and ran into a trio of ruffians instead.

"The McCanles gang," Jess' tone matched his inner fury. Ben hadn't been around Laramie during their unwelcome intrusion a few months earlier, so he hadn't learned how ruthless Ezra and his boys could be when they didn't get what they wanted. But he did now.

"They asked me where Slim was," Ben's shaky words made Jess' body go rigid. Ben knew.

"And…?" Jess prompted, even though he knew Ben was close to falling unconscious again.

"I told 'em it was none of their business," Ben wearily pulled his hand up to his head, "but then one of 'em started to hit me. I'm sorry, Jess. I thought they were gonna shoot me, so I said Slim went up to Mason's Ridge."

"It's all right, Ben," Jess replied, but it wasn't likely that Ben had heard him at all, for he had gone back to the place where pain went unknown.

Jess slowly stood, his eyes riveted to the northern hills where he knew Ezra and his boys were headed. Slim was no longer safe. If Jess had held any comfort that the McCanles gang had ridden away from his hanging tree without getting what they wanted, it was now forgotten. There was no blame in Jess' heart towards Ben for giving away Slim's location. He didn't know Ezra McCanles' vengeful reasoning and even if he had, Jess would have never asked the man to stay as unwavering in his stance as he had when faced with similar cruelty.

The sound of the westbound stage atop of the hill turned Jess in its direction. He breathed a sigh of relief upon its arrival, for the coach and team of horses would be the easiest transportation to get Ben into Laramie so he could get started on McCanles' trail. He stepped up to the coach as it rolled to a stop, the driver and shotgun rider were both wide-eyed at what was displayed in front of them.

"What happened?" Frankie, the man who'd driven the team, asked as he stepped down from the coach, the concern in his voice as evident as the worry lines on his forehead.

"Too much to tell about," Jess answered and then turned towards the shotgun man, Tex. "Switch the teams for me, will you?"

Tex complied in a hurry, knowing Jess Harper well enough that if he looked as beaten as an old rug on cleaning day that something was very wrong at the Sherman relay station. As he hurriedly worked, he watched Frankie and Jess look over the unconscious body on the ground and then carefully carry the old man to the empty stagecoach.

"Get Ben to the doc's right away," Jess commanded after Ben was placed inside of the coach, grateful that it had only been a mail run and not a coach bursting at the seams with passengers.

"What about you?" Frankie couldn't help but gape at Jess' obvious wounds.

"I'll be fine," Jess shrugged, doing his best to make his injuries look like they weren't anything serious.

"You want me to send the sheriff out here?" Frankie asked, his eyes darting back and forth between Ben's face and Jess' shoulder.

"No point," Jess answered quickly, his eyes turning towards Tex as the younger man was finishing the final steps of getting the stage ready to go. "There won't be anyone here when he comes. But you can do me a favor, though. Stop by Jud's place and tell him I need him to watch the ranch for a spell."

"You're heading out?" Frankie asked with eyebrows raised.

"Ain't got any other choice," Jess said and then with one last look at Ben, Jess shut the stagecoach door and then walked with a firm stride towards the corral to saddle his mount for what had the potential to be an intense ride to Mason's Ridge, a small, quiet town north of Casper.

Jess left the ranch in a hurried pace not long after the stagecoach hit the road towards Laramie. Jess took a different turn off of the road, as his path would start winding into the northerly hills. Before his horse stepped off of Sherman property, Jess stopped his mount and turned his head to look behind him. From that vantage point, everything that he could see belonged to his partner. Jess had a strange sensation wash over him as he finally turned to go. What would happen to the ranch if McCanles had his way? In Slim's eyes it belonged to both of them, but Jess knew one thing for certain, he wouldn't want to run it without his partner.

He was weak. With every mile that passed on the trail, Jess became even weaker. The blood had quit flowing freely from his shoulder, but the damage from the loss of his blood had already taken its toll. The adrenaline that had carried him had been steadily dwindling and Jess could feel the last ounces of strength fade away quicker than the sunlight that was now being replaced with the dark of night. He took a deep breath, telling himself that he had to keep going for Slim, but his personal command inside of his head was getting as faint as how his entire body felt.

Jess shook his head to keep himself awake, but the motion wasn't strong enough to take effect. His horse carried him another thirty feet and then he began to sway in the saddle, his weariness overpowering his resolve with every blink of his eyes. Jess pulled on the reins and just as his mount's hooves came to a stop, Jess' body started to slide. He hit the ground with a groan, his face rubbing on the dusty trail as he tried to roll himself over, but the aching that wouldn't cease prevented his attempt. Jess lay still, the waves of exhaustion rolling over him until he drifted into a painless sleep.

It was the hot sun baking through the shirt on his back that finally woke him. Jess licked his lips and tasted the dirt that was caked into every dried crack around his mouth making him feel like he was as parched as if he'd been traversing a desert. His sleep hadn't brought an overwhelming feeling of relief, but it had rebuilt enough strength that he was slowly able to pull himself to his feet. Jess staggered with the first step, his hands spreading outward to help his balance and then he was able to turn a full, steady circle. Like the good horse Jess had trained him to be, his faithful mount stood a short distance away and Jess walked slowly towards him, speaking in gentle tones and then as he traced a hand across the horse's neck, Jess pulled his canteen free. Jess poured the warmed liquid down his throat and as it washed into his middle, the emptiness that was there immediately struck him with a sharp hunger pang.

Jess didn't even know how long it had been since he'd last eaten, but now it was past catching up with him. Falling from his horse had been from more than just exhaustion and Jess knew he wouldn't be staying in the saddle for long again if he didn't find some nourishment. He had left home in such a hurry that he hadn't taken the time to properly prepare for a hard journey, including not packing any necessary food provisions. He shoved his hand into his saddle bag, searching for anything that might have been leftover from the last overnight trip he'd taken and found some hardtack. It was like a rock, but at least it didn't have any weevils. Jess put the stone-like substance in his mouth and the bite that it took to break it returned a jab of pain to his jaw. The hardtack crumbled in his mouth and he chased it down with a swig from his canteen. It did little to satisfy him, but if it would carry him a little longer, it did its work.

The canteen now empty, Jess let his eyes wander ahead on the trail and he saw through a gap in the trees the shimmer of water. Taking his horse's reins in hand, Jess walked his mount forward on the trail and as he turned a bend, a small, welcoming lake met his view. After filling his canteen, Jess took another long drink and as the water dripped down his chin and onto his shirt, his eyes went with the water as it trickled down his front and then he let his gaze shift to the blood stain at his shoulder. Jess didn't need the visual to remind him it was there, but seeing it made him realize that just like his lack of food preparation, he hadn't taken the time to tend to his injury.

Jess unbuttoned his shirt and tried to pull it open near the knife wound, but the dried blood had made fabric and flesh nearly one. He winced with the pain that it caused as he put more pressure to rip the shirt open, but his attempt at freeing the wound only made the pain more intense. Water would help, Jess knew, and he stood still for a moment debating whether to dump the contents of his canteen directly over his shoulder. Yet, it wasn't just his freshest injury that needed to be cleaned, his entire body needed washing. Blood, sweat, dirt, and the smells that went with them were in more places than he wanted to count. Jess hesitated a moment longer, knowing that to accomplish the entire task at hand would mean getting almost fully submerged while getting almost fully undressed, since all that he had for clothes were what he wore. A wet shirt he could handle, but soaked jeans against his skin was not a feeling he had ever enjoyed, especially when his hind end would be meeting the saddle soon after. Jess shifted a leg as he looked down towards his pants and then he looked again at the inviting bath that was only a few steps away and he made the choice.

Even though he knew there shouldn't be anyone around in the hills for miles, Jess turned around three times before he fully convinced himself he was alone. Jess Harper wasn't the type of man to undress with an audience, as only his horse that had been with him for years had the rare privilege of watching such a scene unfold. Satisfied with his solitude, Jess unbuckled his gun belt and draped it over his saddle and then, leaning against his horse's solid form, he released his feet from his dust covered boots, the socks coming off a moment later. It had been Jess' choice to always clothe himself in something as formfitting as his jeans were, even though it took a little longer to wriggle in and out of them when it came time to do so, he wore them snug for a specific purpose. A gun belt fit most precisely around hips that were nicely shaped and smooth, as excess folds of oversized fabric could make the belt shift positions which hindered a skilled quick draw. Besides, he secretly knew this was how to get an extra glance his way from the ladies. Jess dropped the jeans to the ground and put a hand to his waist, touching the top seam of his long john's that were unevenly cut to rest just above his knees. These would wait to come off until the last moment, just in case.

Jess stepped towards the edge of the lake, the water moving slightly with a warm breeze that the sun flickered and danced in little bursts of light on its surface. He dipped a toe in, cold, as all mountainous waterways were, but not enough so that it would make him holler. Once he was up to his ankles, with another long stare in every direction, Jess stepped free from his underwear and tossed it precisely where the water met the dirt to be able to quickly step back in when he was through. Pushing his legs quickly through the deepening water, Jess didn't stop until the water was level with his waistline, and there he stood still, feeling the relaxing rolls of water surround him.

His shirt tails dangled in the water and the absorption started to make its way to his chest and Jess began to feel his skin start tingling near his jagged cut. Cupping handfuls of water over his sticky shoulder, Jess winced with every movement until the fabric finally pulled loose from his skin and once fully freed, the shirt was allowed to be dropped into the water until it sank, his foot finding it a moment later to keep it from escaping his position. Jess pressed a finger over the wound, grateful that there wasn't an intense heat radiating from the cut, but it still hurt enough to say a gritty "dad-gum" that echoed back at him from across the lake. Fresh blood trickled down his chest, but he repeatedly washed it away until only a trickle oozed from the center of the wound.

Jess sighed, wishing that there was a way that his internal wounds could be cleansed just as well, but not even the finest of soaps could make that painful part of him feel any better. He had an overwhelming emotion of guilt pricking him on the inside of his chest with almost the same severity as the knife that Virgil had stabbed him with. Jess felt responsible for the threat to Slim's life because it was a part of his personal past that was doing all of the damage, made worse that it was from a family of outlaws that never could quit causing harm.

Jess had wanted to track the McCanles gang after they fled the minister's house, but for Slim's sake, he let them go free. He didn't owe a single one of them any favors. It would have suited him just fine to see either their sorry hides strung up or locked behind bars for a long, long time. Troy, on the other hand, now that Jess knew she was gone, didn't wish a vile fate in the same manner as her pa and brothers, but at the time of her departure, never seeing her again had been a high incentive to not trail the family of outlaws to give them what they deserved. But it was his friendship to Slim that kept his feet planted at the ranch as Slim's bruised heart needed comforting. Jess couldn't help but mull over how everything now could have been different. Now that Ezra and his sons had worse intentions than ever before, Jess wished that he'd gone against his better judgment and put an end to them when he had the chance. If he had, they wouldn't be going after Slim at all. Slim would be safe, that is, until the next time something happened.

Jess knew that the McCanles gang was just a small chapter amongst a thickly written history book of his life. How many times since he'd put his roots at the Sherman ranch had Jess' past caught up with him and not only brought trouble to him, but to Slim as well? How many more times could it happen? Who else could end up at Slim's doorstep just because it was also home to Jess Harper? There were plenty of other men that he had a dark past with, some much more vile than the McCanles gang were. As long as there were wanted men with ties to Jess running loose, would Slim ever be fully safe?

Jess knew the answer and he dropped his head with grief. His reflection stared back at him, the ripples of the water not enough to blur his facial cuts and bruises that had been disregarded for a deeper hurt. He took a deep breath and then plunged his head into the water, the cold washing over his eyes and into his ears, but it couldn't clear his head from the tumultuous thoughts that hammered inside. Jess wiped his hands roughly over his face and then shook his head to fling the excess droplets out of his hair, knowing he needed to get back on the trail. His soaked shirt was plucked from the lake bottom and draped over his left shoulder as he exited the water, the long johns put back on the moment he stepped on dry ground.

While he dressed, as he hopped into the saddle and while his horse covered the ground as he tracked his enemy's trail, the same thoughts replayed in his mind. Everything about his former life kept causing Slim harm, and if not Slim himself, their friendship. There had already been instances where Jess' past had tried to separate them. How long until someone else rode in that had the power to place a permanent wedge between them? Slim's friendship meant everything to Jess, yet how much longer could it continue to get tested before something finally broke?

Jess' troubles would continue to come, one after another, to fight or to kill, but they'd come to an abrupt stop if he wasn't around. Slim wouldn't have to take the brunt of his consequences anymore, like he shouldn't be doing now. McCanles wanted Slim dead, of that Jess was certain and Jess would do everything in his power to stop him before he or his sons had the chance to even touch his partner. This harrowing journey might not be over in a day or even two, but when his fight with McCanles found its end, as long as Slim came out of it alive, Jess would have to make the most difficult decision of his life. It was time for him to move on. This decision wouldn't come without pain, for him or for Slim. Jess had been planted firmly on Sherman soil, his stakes driven far deeper than any outsider could see. Even though it would hurt to pull himself away and leave everything behind, it couldn't match the suffering that would come if because of him, Slim would die. Slim deserved a far better life than this, and Jess wanted to give it to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Slim walked out of a quaint café and stood in front of a window, his frame mostly covering the name of the establishment that was painted in bright red lettering. He had just filled himself with a heaping plate of steak and potatoes, but the driest bread he'd ever tasted had mostly been pushed aside. Slim would have to remind himself not to criticize Jess' loaves the next time his partner put an apron on to do the baking, since on occasion, the bread didn't always come out next to perfect, but was still better than what he'd just been served. Slim smiled as he thought about home and his best friend that probably had left at least one major chore undone for him to return to. It wouldn't bother him if there was, especially since he'd been living a carefree life for the past few days while Jess had likely been up to his elbows in work for the entire duration of his absence.

Slim had spent the past few days in Mason's Ridge. It wasn't a sizable town, but it was home to an old friend of his father, who founded the settlement when Slim was in his early teenage years. Slim hadn't seen Carl Mason since his pa's funeral and had lost touch with the family, but when an invitation to the man's youngest daughter's wedding arrived, he wanted to attend in the memory of his father. The wedding now over, the bride kissed and the couple sent on their way, Slim's only desire after taking in his fill of food was to return home.

Slim strode along the single boardwalk of town, his footsteps taking him in the direction of the livery stable to retrieve his mount to begin the trip home to Laramie. As Slim walked steadily forward, a young boy, probably seven or eight, watched his approach from his position, peeking around an edge of a building. Satisfied that Slim was indeed walking in his direction, he stepped into the middle of the boardwalk and stood solidly in his way.

"Paper, Mister?" The boy held one empty palm up towards Slim while the other arm firmly clasped a stack of folded newspapers.

Slim looked down into the child's face that had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. His blonde hair, slightly unkempt, especially around his ears, reminded Slim of how his own had looked when he was that youthful age. The blue eyes looked up into Slim's own and at that moment, he knew there wasn't any way he could pass by an innocent boy trying to make a sale. His mouth twitched with a smile and even though he hadn't a single use for a newspaper, Slim pulled a coin from his pocket and dropped it into the boy's hand.

"Thanks, Mister!" The grin that lit up the child's face had been worth every cent.

Slim tapped the newspaper in his hand as he watched the boy skip across the street and then unfolded the sheets so the front page was visible. There really wasn't any need for him to read it, but in glancing at the top of the paper, Slim noted that it wasn't a local paper at all, but one from the larger town to the south, Casper. His hands had just started to put the paper back in its folded shape when from a bottom corner of the sheet, the McCanles name jumped off of the page and hit him in the face. He didn't have to read far into the fifty word article to know that one of the members had been killed. Slim's heart began to race and then it felt like it stopped when the name of confirmation was spelled in front of him.

"Troy," Slim barely breathed her name. Glad that there were few people around him, Slim sank down onto a bench outside of the post office. How could she be dead? The article didn't give a cause, only that it was accidental. But as Slim was fully aware, many people, including newspapermen, often would dub a shootout as an accident. If it wasn't witnessed by an honest person, the truth could be much more than just a sketchy illustration.

It was no secret that the whole gang was wanted. The McCanles gang had been feared by citizens and sought after by countless men wearing badges across several states and territories for years. Although they had survived for most of their lives being on the run, it was bound to happen eventually that one would go down, by accident or deliberately. But why did it have to be Troy? And as the reason for her death remained unknown to Slim, he was left without answers, but the fueled theories were far from absent. Bounty hunters, a skilled lawman, a perfectly placed posse, a lucky shot, even a family quarrel could have been the cause. Slim balled the newspaper in his hands, the crumpled papers tossed to the end of the bench that he sat upon. A slight breeze picked at the sheets of paper until the corner was once more revealed, the painful article stared blankly up at Slim, drawing his eyes directly to its cold truth. He didn't have to read it again, as word by word had already been seared into his mind, yet they spoke loudly inside of his head as if his mouth were forming the words.

"The notorious group of outlaws, the McCanles gang, was stricken with grief when a member was found dead. It has been reported by a reliable source that Troy McCanles, the youngest member and only female in the gang, was killed in an accident earlier this month. The remaining gang is still wanted."

Slim abruptly stood, his long legs taking him to his original destination, to get his horse and head home. There was nothing for him in Mason's Ridge to keep him there another moment and sitting idly alone was doing nothing but making a larger ache form in his middle. No longer was the reason just to be back on his own property and do the work he knew beckoned to be done, but he needed to get to Jess. His partner also needed to know that Troy was dead. Were they friends, enemies? Whatever would have best described Jess and Troy's relationship Slim didn't even know, but it had existed long before Jess had ever stepped foot on Sherman property. They shared a different past together than what he and Troy's past had become, but a loss of a friend, even one that rankled his ire, would still cause pain. Slim knew Jess well enough to know that he would still find time to grieve, even if no one saw it.

Slim's own grief, raw and new, hammering hard inside of his chest made him yearn for something other than loneliness, but he would have to wait to find any relief. The homeward trail that his horse had only just begun would take at least two days to cover. Unlike Jess who harbored everything inside until it burst forth in an explosive display, Slim was more open, but if there wasn't a recipient on the other end of his openness, what harbored inside of him could build into a similar outburst.

As the trail disappeared behind him, it seemed like the past few months hadn't gone by at all for Slim, as every emotion that he'd felt when Troy had ridden out of his life returned with an additional punch in his gut. There now was a different type of sadness tearing into his soul that only came when someone you cared about was gone. Slim sighed, allowing the memories to touch him, just as the gentle way their lips had met when his heart reached out of his chest to meet with her own. If the two could have been bound permanently together, Slim never had the chance to know, and now, it was forever sealed far away from him.

Maybe it was because he'd just attended a wedding, where every guest was full of joy at the beautiful occasion that was making him feel even more overcome with tender emotions, for there had been a time when such an event wasn't far from being planned in his own mind. Troy had been the one to mention marriage during their brief relationship, Slim had never asked her. But hearing her words, proclaiming the desire to be his wife had decided it in his heart as if he had gone to one knee. It might not have been a traditional way, but then again, Troy was far from a normal woman.

Slim hadn't planned on falling for her, although she somehow had been able to wrap him around her finger the first time they'd met. Female wiles aside, she was fiery, short-tempered, and quick to strike back, the exact opposite of the type of women he'd pictured himself with when in his daydreams he'd view his perfect match. Yet, the desire to be with her, to talk to her, to see her smile and to protect her, especially from her father and brothers, had grown until a strong flame burned inside of his chest. Was it love? They'd barely had the chance to properly court one another, had never even said the three most important words in a romantic relationship. The kisses were sweet and weren't lacking in passion, the reminder of them made him smile even now. Yet a kiss wasn't love. If it was, he would have been married a long time ago to any number of women that would have turned out wrong. Would it have been the same for Troy?

She herself admitted it would have never worked between the two of them. At the time that she left, Slim had placed the reasoning entirely on her family. To her, it was, but looking back, Slim had his own reasoning to let their relationship go no further. Jess. He had tried to warn him about Troy, but like the good friend that he was, Jess never pushed hard on Slim, but let him make his own choice. But with Troy, that had been entirely different. Slim knew that Jess had confronted her, more than once, and knowing Jess, whatever was said wouldn't have been given as a gentle nudge, but a firm shove.

Slim knew Jess had only wanted to protect him, whether if it was only from the McCanles men, or if that protection included Troy too, Slim still didn't know. The thing that Slim did know, as it was what had bothered him the most, was that he could have been close to losing his best friend forever. If the two of them had truly planned to marry, knowing Jess' low opinion of not only Troy alone, but the entire McCanles family, Slim had greatly feared that Jess would have ridden away quickly after the marriage, and Slim's life, with a much different twist, wouldn't have had the same meaning again. He'd known the truth and accepted it not long after he'd said goodbye to Troy. If his partner was more important than a woman, than the woman involved wasn't the right woman.

Slim rode steadily southward, the trail that he'd picked homeward different than the one he'd ridden in on as this one, higher into the hills, would be a quicker route to the ranch. He rode until the shadows were so dark that he couldn't see a few feet in front of him and then made a simple camp. Long into the night he lay awake as sleep couldn't overcome the powerful emotions that seized him, giving him what would have been inadequately described as a troubled mind. His thoughts, not far from Troy were expected, and Jess as well, but the later the night became, Slim kept thinking of his partner. Daylight, after a few hours of sleep, hadn't changed the thought process at all and he saddled up once more, determined to put several miles behind him before the sun reached its peak in the sky.

Trails and streams meandered, sometimes crossing each other more than once in the depths of the wilderness. If one man was at one end of those pathways and a trio of men at the other, despite the shifts and bends that came with the course, there was still a great possibility that there would be a meeting in the middle. The farther each man traveled into the afternoon, the lines of separation between them grew smaller, until the man that led two others began to sense the presence of another. This made their position as they came to a complete stop, the exact point where all would come together.

The leader of the gang sat silently atop of his still horse, his instincts as sharp as his eyes that picked up every movement in front of him. He listened, his ears not hearing anyone approaching, but he knew one was coming. He sniffed his nose, but his nose didn't pick up any human odors, yet he knew one was there. He touched his rifle, feeling the familiarity of the weapon, knowing that touch would have much more meaning when he went for it next. He turned towards his oldest son and gave a command, smiling a moment later as it was obeyed. He stayed still, his senses continuing to work as the time steadily ticked down until the man somewhere ahead of him drew closer. His wait wasn't long, as barely ten minutes had passed when his son returned.

"Someone's coming, Pa," the response was spoken quietly, motioning with a finger towards the north. "Reckon it's him?"

The question was answered with a furtive nod. "Let's ready ourselves."

Hiding the horses several feet away, the three men found their perfect positions, keeping themselves tucked into brush, behind a stout tree, and crouched low around a mossy boulder. There they waited, their eyes watching for the first movement, greatly anticipating the man's face as it would come into focus would belong to the one they were after. They had felt this way before, back inside of the ranch house, but their suspense had to be held when faced with the wrong man. That man had stood in their way before, but now he was nowhere near.

Just like his partner, when he had ridden to the ranch unaware that a group of outlaws were waiting for him, Slim was riding straight into an unseen trap. Considering everything that had been battling inside of Slim's head, his level of alertness wasn't what it should have been. His eyes kept to the path that was laid out ahead, not seeing any abnormality in front of him or any indication that he was no longer alone. He rode steadily onward until he was in full view of those that waited for him.

Three men held rifles in their hands, but only one was setting its sights on the target. As the man rode closer to his hidden position, his grin grew wider and he silenced the laughter that tickled in his throat as the rifle now drew a straight line to the man he was determined to kill. He flicked his eyes slightly towards his pa as this time he wouldn't be waiting for a signal since there had never been a more perfect opportunity to get what they all wanted. Eyes back on his target, he nodded his head, and his finger pulled the trigger.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The blast of the rifle's report exploded in Slim's ears, his body, responding in a necessary reaction, dropped to the ground while the bullet tore its path. He landed with a jarring thud, but his flesh had no stinging or pain as there was no blood or wound anywhere on him. Slim rolled in the dirt until he found sufficient cover, his gun filling his hand as his eyes searched the area in front of him. Not a movement could be seen, and for a moment, he almost wondered if he'd fallen asleep in the saddle, a dream turned into a nightmare. But he didn't need another bullet whizzing past him to know that he was awake, the tear on his left sleeve was proof enough that his eyes had remained wide opened through it all.

The rifle that had been fired was now silent, as the man that held it knew there would not be a word of encouragement coming his way for the careless action he had taken. He heard the shuffling in the brush come in his direction and he held his breath as his pa, with a face so red and provoked that his beard couldn't hide the bright shade in his cheeks, scurried close to his side. Ezra McCanles glared at his son, Homer, his frown set so deep that his scruffy chin whiskers took on a distorted shape that spoke louder than any words of scorn that could have been hurled upon him.

"You trigger-happy galoot," Ezra slapped Homer's arm, keeping his voice low enough that his opponent couldn't hear his possible tirade. "Now look at what you did."

"I just wanted to kill him," Homer answered quickly as he held his rifle close to his chest. "I had him right here. You would've done the same if you had zeroed in on him like I had."

"Yeah, but you missed, plain as day, you missed," Ezra shook his head back and forth, his eyes never leaving the anxious face of his son's.

"How was I supposed to know he was gonna move at the last second?" Homer shrugged, still seeing in his mind's eye how Sherman had shifted in his saddle, the bullet only touching fabric instead of its intended location before penetrating into a tree trunk.

"I guess you couldn't have, but now you're gonna do some moving on your own," Ezra pointed towards the area where he knew Slim Sherman was hunkered down. "If you want him that bad, then get around him. Do it quietly and when you've got a good position, give me a signal. If we do this right, all three of us can put a well placed bullet inside of him."

"Right, Pa," Homer nodded and then silently left his position to do as his pa instructed, grateful that he would soon have another chance to put an end to Sherman's life.

Slim could hear hoarse whispers, but distinguishing even a tiny snippet of what was being said was impossible. He knew by the exchange of vocal tones that there were at least two men that could have pulled the trigger, but the reason left his mind in a boldly shaded question mark. His past wasn't completely tarnished free, but there was little that stood out in his life that would have reason for someone to be targeting him. He'd done his best since his ranch was solely placed on his shoulders to live a tame life without regularly inviting gunplay. Trials came, no man was without them, but the only real trouble he usually found himself in was because of Jess. The next thought came so suddenly, Slim's body went rigid with alarm. Was the bullet that almost found him permanently also because of Jess? Slim gripped his gun even tighter in his hands, his thoughts now completely focused away from his own myriad of emotions that had assaulted him, now in full worry over his partner.

"Sherman," the voice hollered from the brush, but as Slim dared to raise his head to look hard in every direction, it remained only a voice.

Slim didn't want to call out a reply for fear that his position would be given away. He knew that if any part of him from his head on down to his feet were visible, the bullets would already be flying in his direction, ready to sear into his flesh. Slim remained hidden, keeping his body unmoving, even doing his best to keep his breathing at its quietest tone, but with his heart thumping as fast as if he were in a grueling leg race it was difficult to not make each breath seem loud in his ears.

"Didn't you hear me? I know I ain't got a strong throat for yelling, but I sure as blazes have a strong dislike of people that choose to ignore it when I do go to squawking."

It took a little over a dozen words from his adversary's mouth for Slim to identify him. Ezra McCanles. Troy's wickedly conniving pa, who didn't go anywhere or do anything without her equally as depraved brothers. An outlaw family that could have become his family and at least one of them had almost gunned him down, intentionally. McCanles had called out to him by name, so Slim knew he'd been purposely sought out. With his mind processing the possibilities that backed their reasoning, something began to disturb him more than the fact that Troy's family hid somewhere in front of him, likely with each hand holding a well-trained rifle. How had they known where to find him?

There hadn't been any reason to keep the fact that Slim was attending a wedding in Mason's Ridge a secret, but as it turned out, only Jess, Ben and the sheriff in Laramie knew where he'd gone. With Ezra McCanles on the exact trail that wound its way from his ranch to Mason's Ridge, it was too coincidental that they would naturally run into each other. They had known right where to go, lying in wait for their unsuspecting prey. The McCanles gang would have had to obtain that knowledge before they had even started.

Jess wouldn't betray him, Slim knew that without even thinking about it. Jess would breathe his last before he would even point in the northerly direction of Mason's Ridge if confronted by the McCanles gang. A tingle ran down Slim's backbone enough to make his whole body shiver as he began to picture a possible image in his mind of what would happen if Jess had met up with the gang. If his partner had known their intentions, he wouldn't have let the McCanles family get this far without a fight. There was always a winner and a loser in every battle, and Ezra with his two sons a few feet away from him spoke plainly enough that they weren't the ones indisposed.

"Sherman!" Ezra's shout echoed back from several directions, each repeat hammering hard in Slim's head. "My patience is already thin!"

Slim could have stayed silent if his only concerns were for his own self, but if Jess was involved, and Slim had a strong suspicion that his partner truly was, he couldn't keep quiet. Slim knew that each McCanles gang member hated Jess with a fiery passion and it wouldn't take much from either side to build enough anger to increase a desire to put a bullet in him. If they had, Slim knew it wouldn't take much out of him either to do the same to them. He had to know about Jess, even if it meant his own safety, as small as it might have been, would then be gone.

"Where's Jess?" Slim hollered, the jabs of fear poked inside of his chest that the answer would be six feet under.

"Who cares about him when all we want is you?" The sharp reply had enough animosity in it that Slim could almost feel the bite of the words touch his skin.

"All right, so you want me," Slim called, his tone matching the sharpness that came from Ezra's mouth almost exactly, "but you won't get a chance at me until I know about Jess."

"Last I saw him he was laying on the ground, bleeding something fierce," Ezra's words made Slim's skin turn so cold anything he touched could have turned to ice.

"Was he…?" Slim didn't speak loudly, but the question he left dangling in the air wasn't missed by Ezra's keen hearing.

"I ain't got no more need to worry about Harper's health," Ezra's mouth turned up into a smile. "You won't either after we get through with you, so quit bellyaching over him and start thinking about your own sorry hide."

"What did I do to you?" Slim asked, but he figured he knew the answer. Troy. He had courted her, expressed more than just a slight interest in her and in doing so, had almost turned her completely against her family. Since she was no longer alive to defend him like she had done before, nothing could turn them away from the idea that Slim hadn't been any good for her at all.

"You dare ask me that when my baby girl is dead?" Ezra's words spit with fire.

"How did Troy die?" Slim asked, the catch in his throat even evident across the way into Ezra's ears, but it did nothing to sooth the older man's vengeance. Not knowing the answer had been gnawing away at Slim's insides since he'd learned of her death and even if the McCanles gang truly intended to kill him, he didn't want to breathe his last without knowing the truth.

"That's personal," Ezra snapped his reply, "only family has the privilege to know the details of a loved one's passing."

"Seems to me you're forgetting that I came close to being a part of that family," Slim answered, nearly holding his breath as he waited for his words to sink into McCanles' thick skull.

"It was an accident," Ezra answered a few grueling seconds later. "Horse threw her."

"I'm sorry," Slim answered as he dropped his head to the ground. Knowing that she hadn't taken a bullet only made him feel slightly less sorrowed, but death was still death. Its finality had just been spelled out harshly in front of Slim once more and the emptiness inside grew larger.

"Sorry doesn't change a thing," Ezra said, his voice getting louder as he spoke. "Sorry didn't make her stop thinking about you. Sorry didn't make her wanna leave us to be with you. Sorry didn't stop her horse from stumbling while she ran away to be with you. And sorry sure as blazes doesn't make me want you dead any less."

The emphasis that Ezra had made every time he said "you" was like his hand had reached out and slapped Slim's face with each use of the word. The verbal blows that stung inside and out made Slim clearly understand it all. A bitter, grieving father, looking for someone to point a finger to, and because Troy had still held a piece of Slim inside of her heart, the finger went directly to him. It wasn't hard to see their side, but the side he truly wanted to see was Troy's, but she couldn't offer him any direction at all. Slim took a deep breath, fully aware of the wrath that was wrapped up in the family bond of loyalty that he was facing. Slim knew how retaliation, especially amongst a group of outlaws, wouldn't stop growing until an end was met. Usually, it came with the end of a life. In this case, it was his.

"We don't blame you at all for hiding, Sherman," Ezra's tone grated on Slim's nerves, but when they took a sharper jab, his body stiffened and the anger that he had tried to dispel started to grow. "Cowards tend to do that when faced with adversity."

Slim wasn't about to fall for the bait that Ezra dangled in front of him. He didn't have to stand up shooting to prove that cowardice didn't belong anywhere in the definitions of Slim's characteristics. He bit his lip, keeping any fiery responses from slipping through them and waited, as his silence meant the challenge was still being held in Ezra and his son's hands. They would have to take a different step, and Slim had a strong feeling that it would be with gunfire. Moments later, his suspicions would be proven accurate.

Slim's body suddenly tensed enough that he held his breath and his eyes turned to search the area behind him, knowing that one of the gang was closing in on his position. There was no movement in the brush that Slim could see, but fully going on his instincts that were pricking every nerve, it was clear that someone was there. When Slim heard a strange noise and a similar sounding response, he knew he had one second to act. He jumped, placing his body directly between a rotting stump and a dense clump of briars just as a bullet tore through the air, zinging into the ground where moments before he'd just been laying. The fight, heavily swaying in the McCanles gang's direction, had begun.

"Get him, boys!" Ezra's command was barely finished before the deafening shots were fired.

Slim ducked and dodged, firing as precisely as he could, but he was pinned down so tightly that his aim wasn't making contact. With every bullet that flung in the direction of one of the McCanles men, three more bounced around him or flew so close to him that he heard the air sizzle. Each minute slowed down until time seemed to stand still, but the bullets couldn't suspend while everything else around them seemed frozen, as they hurtled through the air searching for his flesh.

Slim felt his cheek get peppered with tiny shards of wood when a bullet ricocheted off of the stump that protected him, the bullet missing his skin, but not without causing him pain. He put his left hand over the stinging skin just as two more bullets narrowly missed something vital. Slim crouched even lower, his gun firing quickly in several directions, but he knew that with each pull of the trigger, his defeat was coming quickly. The opposing side was not lost to this fact either.

"Sherman," Ezra's voice, filled with the resonance of victory, called to him from somewhere in the brush. "You ain't got a chance. Why don't you step out in the open and make it easy on all of us?"

Slim rubbed his jaw in thought, not considering McCanles' suggestion that he surrender, but wondering how much longer he could possibly keep going. His horse had scampered away once the gun shots became aggressive, so going for his gear or the rifle that was fitted next to his saddle wasn't an option. The only bullets he had left were the ones in his belt, and he'd already reloaded twice. The number would start to dwindle soon, leaving an empty revolver and an ended fight, which would lead to an ended life. Slim could feel the dread of what was to come as if the bullet had already been fatally placed as he knew his time was running out.

But Slim was far from facing what was coming alone. In the distance, riding fast in the direction of the gunfire, with his own intensity for vengeance pumping through his veins, was Jess.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jess rode steadily northward, the trail that he was following becoming clearer with every step, showed him that he was rapidly gaining ground on the McCanles gang. The adrenaline that came with the knowledge that he wasn't far behind the renegade family started building renewed strength into Jess' weary body, something that was vitally needed for when he would face them. He couldn't struggle or waver when that time would come, for they would definitely want to see his blood painfully shed, in a way, just as he would want to see theirs. Jess didn't want it to come all the way down to someone's death, but the McCanles gang had already made it clear that they were willing to leave several graves in their path to get Slim and one could very well be his own. Jess would defend himself, and Slim, all the way to his end if necessary.

They had both proven on more than one occasion that their lives were truly meaningful, going as far as complete sacrifice for each other, but as of yet, the final step, or breath, for one of them had never needed to be taken. Jess knew he was valued in Slim's eyes at its highest level, the same as Jess felt for Slim. He knew if their roles were reversed in this increasingly arduous ordeal, Slim would be tracking anyone that would have been out for his blood. This marked the depths of their friendship; being faithful, genuine and forever loyal.

The crack of a rifle brought Jess' horse to a skidding stop, the dust around the hooves curled into the air around him, momentarily encircling him with a dirt tinged cloud. He stayed still, even after the dust had settled, listening for a return fire, but only silence met his ears. Jess swallowed, but the action was hard to complete as a lump of fear was solidly stuck inside of his throat. The single shot could have meant absolutely nothing, or it could have been everything if Slim had been on the receiving end of it.

As the minutes ticked by in silence, Jess slowly let his horse go forward, a sickening pit of realistic angst settling in the middle of his stomach. He didn't want to let his mind get as far ahead as where the rifle shot had come from and think the worst, but the heavy weight of dread that gripped his chest like a vice was hard to dismiss. Continuing onward, the burden mounted, with another facet of his internal turmoil nudging the fearfulness aside. Anger, seething and severe, with an elevated level of violence, threatened to take complete control.

Jess knew he was a dangerous man. No one else had to tell him what he was capable of. He had already done things in his past that he wasn't proud of, sat behind bars on more than one occasion, and he'd built a reputation far and wide with his gun that would never be forgotten by anyone that he'd come up against. No matter how many years had spanned between his days as a ruffian and his true attempt to walk the straight and narrow, the separation that had been built would never be extensive enough. He could easily step back into his old shadows again, because Jess was still that same man.

There was nothing easy about weighing his darkest options. Jess had been in this position before, forced by evil hands, making him choose to keep fighting for justice, or putting his name back on a wanted poster. Sometimes, the line that separated the two was so thin that it couldn't be seen. Jess knew he was about to stand at its invisible mark again, ready to turn away from anything that was good, unless Slim was still solidly standing on the right side of that line. But for now, as long as that single gunshot still echoed in his head, he kept his balance.

Jess turned his horse on a trail that he knew would lead him to the appointed place when suddenly everything erupted in a fury of gunfire and Jess hurried his mount faster to cover the remaining land that separated them. The rapid shots gave Jess a strange split in his already enraged emotions, as part of him exploded in even more fury, while the other half surged through his turmoil with a pronounced elation. Even though he knew that the McCanles gang was shooting with the intent to kill, the sound of the active reports meant that they still had a live target to shoot at. As long as the sounds continued, it meant that Slim was still alive, but he had to get there before everything turned silent once more.

As he covered the final stretch of land, Jess wouldn't have said he felt like a rancher anymore, he knew he wouldn't have even come close to being seen as a respectable citizen, for now the gunfighter with a formidable past was all that radiated from Jess' being. It was seen in his eyes, as there were visible red sparks that flashed as he stared resolutely ahead that couldn't be mistaken for the weariness that had fled when his attitude had switched from somber to anger. It was seen in his position, riding firm and steady in the saddle, one hand resting on his thigh, staying close to the gun that he wore. It would have been heard in his voice if it was aloud that he was speaking, but the harsh words of fury that rushed through his mind would remain for his ears alone. Jess was a complete image of his past, but it was acutely accurate for what had become his present.

Jess pulled his horse to a stop on the outer rim of what was about to become an even more heated battle than what was already taking place. Grabbing his rifle, he jumped to the ground, putting his feet into motion towards the position of the adversary that was the closest to him. Jess moved stealthily through the brush, keeping his every step as silent as possible, inching closer and closer until he saw the man that would be his target become clearly visible. Homer. Jess could have dropped the man where he stood, but not wanting the other members of the McCanles gang to discover he was joining in the fray just yet, he stopped his finger from pulling the trigger. With a barely audible intake of air, he continued to creep closer until he was directly behind him.

Jess tapped Homer on the shoulder and if the situation wouldn't have been dangling close to a life or death level of urgency, he would have reveled in the surprised expression that registered on Homer's face, but only for a second could Jess enjoy the display. Jess punched him in the nose and as Homer's body whirled around, Jess whacked him on the back of his head with his rifle, not hard enough to cause irreparable damage, but enough to knock him to the ground. Homer shook his head and tried to raise himself, the whirring in his ears accentuating his dizziness, but he would not pull himself to his feet. He grimaced as he waited for another punch, which Jess landed across his jaw a moment later, taking his world into deep darkness.

Making sure he'd stay quiet even after unconsciousness no longer existed, Jess stuffed the man's handkerchief in his mouth and then tied Homer's wrists together behind his back. After Jess pitched Homer's weapons far into the brush, he then took a step forward, finding Slim's position with his eyes as Ezra and Virgil continued to keep his partner pinned low to the ground. Satisfied that Slim was still returning their fire, Jess maneuvered closer to where the bullets were flying to put himself into a better position to protect his partner.

Just as he was about to throw a bullet in the direction of Ezra McCanles to let the older man know that the fight had just become even, Jess' body suddenly turned stone still. Slim's gun was silent. Jess turned his head in Slim's direction, almost expecting a horrifying visual that would make his heart thump wildly, but there was nothing to be seen. Yet the silence that radiated from behind the rotting stump was a deafening thunder in his ears. Was Slim down? Out of bullets? Or was he playing possum? Jess couldn't take the time to weigh out each question, for if the first was where the answer lay, it was swift action he would have to take.

"You're mine, Sherman!" Ezra began to laugh, cold and menacingly, but he didn't emerge from his safe covering.

Jess kept his eyes pinned to where Slim should be, searching for any sign of movement. He held his breath as he watched, only letting his lungs begin to normally function when Jess saw what he was looking for. Slim was moving, pulling himself into a crouched position, far enough upright for Jess to see that his best friend was still solidly sound. Fresh adrenaline pumped into his chest as Jess was ready to take his stand, knowing it was time to sway the fight more solidly towards the two partner's victory.

"McCanles!" Jess' voice rang out with authority. "You ain't just fighting one anymore!"

"Harper!" The shout was so sharp one would think Jess' name had been made of broken glass.

"Jess," this, from Slim, produced the sound of great relief mixed with a good measure of elation.

"Right here, Slim," Jess said, raising his head high enough for his partner to see. Their eyes met, blue shining into blue, and each man gave a welcoming nod as any fearful burden that they'd carried for the other was suddenly lifted.

"Are you part cat or something?" Ezra called out and then his voice dropped several levels, finishing his question with a mutter. "Man's got more lives than a barn full of mouse hunters with a snarl, bite and claw scratch to match."

"Some say I give a pretty good hiss," Jess answered with a smirk.

"I'll laugh at that remark after I toss dirt in your face," Ezra said, the fire in his veins burning even hotter now that he knew that Jess Harper was among them.

"Don't be so sure you're gonna bury me," Jess answered, knowing by the tension in the air that everything was about to explode in gunfire again.

"You're right," Ezra nodded, feeling all the more ready to deliver on his vows. He reached a hand into his coat pocket and felt the weight of an ample amount of bullets, grateful that he and his sons had heavily supplied themselves with the necessary ingredients before they fired their first shot. "I'll leave you for the buzzards. That goes for you too, Sherman!"

"Then get to it," Jess barked, knowing that none of them would be backing down.

"Virgil, you ready, boy?" Ezra called, wanting to know that both of his sons were still in their same positions.

"Sure enough, Pa," Virgil replied as he moved his rifle slowly around, trying to pinpoint it towards Harper's body, but the man was too experienced in gunplay to even remotely show himself.

"What about you, Homer?" Ezra called out, but all he would get in return was silence. "Homer?"

The absence of Homer's reply mounted the fuel to the fire underneath them and both Ezra and Virgil began to fire their weapons nearly in unison. Jess received as many bullets searing the air around his upper half as Slim was, but only Jess was giving them in return, confirming to Jess that his partner was out of ammunition. Jess had an extra weapon with his rifle, but getting it to Slim wouldn't come without putting himself in the direct line of fire. He momentarily holstered his gun, shoving the rifle as far as he could along the ground in Slim's direction just in case he suddenly went down. Slim's eyes took in his partner's action and waited for an opportunity.

Jess watched for every movement that Virgil and Ezra made when they launched a bullet his way. Seeing a brief glimpse of an arm as aim was taken, Jess readied himself for the proper shot. He sprayed dust near a foot and as he waited for the return report, Jess calmly watched for the target to reappear. It came a mere second later. As the sound of a well-placed bullet pierced each ear, a scream that confirmed its accuracy quickly followed.

"Pa!" Virgil called out, his hand firmly clasping his arm where the bullet had landed. His guttural cry that followed his exclamation put a swift halt to the gunfire. "I've been hit!"

"Give it up, McCanles," Slim called out, hoping Virgil's wound would finally put a stop to the grueling battle. "This doesn't have to end with more killing."

"That's the only way it's gotta end," Ezra hollered, laying down his rifle to prepare himself to go head to head with either Sherman or Harper with the iron at his hip. "Don't you know at all what loyalty is?"

Slim turned his eyes towards Jess and found that Jess was returning his look. They knew without a shadow of a doubt what the answer was. This was loyalty. It wasn't just a feeling that they shared, but it was an attitude that together made it complete. Their actions were printed with more boldness than any well worded description that would follow the term in any dictionary. Their friendship was only a small portion of what built the deep devotion, but its core was found in their hearts, where a brotherly love had become more than steadfast. Loyalty was fighting against any foes that dared cause harm, standing up for the other no matter the cause, and most importantly, being willing to die for one another.

"Yeah," Slim said aloud, although it wasn't far from a staccato shout, it was displayed more closely with a sentimental note, "I know."

"Then receive a full dose of mine!" Ezra stepped into the open, firing his gun in Slim's direction, each bullet hitting dangerously closer than the one before.

"McCanles!" Jess' voice reached out and slapped Ezra in the face, making the older man turn his attention away from Slim and point in his direction.

Jess stood, his gunfighter's stance set to perfection and waited for the precise moment to come as the point of the gun in Ezra's hand moved towards his chest. Jess had no time to flinch or even think the process through, he just had to respond. His gun flashed in the waning sunlight and the trigger was pulled, the bullet racing through the air it met its intended with a groan. Jess remained solidly placed as he watched the scene change in front of him. Ezra's face had been set in stone but with the bang of a gun it was contorted in pain, his eyes crinkling shut as his mouth came open in a gasp, but his unwavering determination kept his feet rooted to the ground.

Ezra took a staggered step forward, one hand clutching his chest while the other still held firmly to his handgun, which retained a steady level towards Jess' heart. There weren't any bullets left in Jess' gun, but neither man that faced each other knew that if he needed to pull the trigger again that it couldn't save his life. Ezra pushed another foot ahead to steady his balance to be certain he wouldn't be dying without taking Harper with him, which prompted Jess to touch the trigger on his gun, the resulting sound taking the pained expression away from Ezra's face. Ezra wanted to laugh, but the blood he was losing was coming too steadily to let him revel in his profound victory longer than the few seconds that had already ticked by. Ezra's mouth found his last sinister smile as the bullet in his gun was ready to meet Jess where it counted the most.

But the blast of a rifle came first.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The sound of the rifle, once finished echoing its returns, brought everything around them to a haunted silence. Two heads turned in unison, their eyes fully taking in the image of Slim standing seemingly taller than his normal height with a rifle in his hands that had just been fired. A moment later, Ezra dropped to the ground with an incoherent string of words coming from his lips as he hit the dirt and then his body went rigid, the life within him was gone. Slim stood rooted to the spot, his hands clasping the rifle that had brought the end to Ezra McCanles once and for all, the feeling of remorse pouring from his heart and soul. He had shot Troy's pa to save Jess' life, there had been no other way.

"You didn't kill him, Slim," Jess said with a gentle tone in his voice as he walked towards Slim, noting the obvious discomfort that bled from Slim's entire being, "at least not entirely. My bullet was just as final. But truth be told, that old man's been walking hand in hand with death for so long that he began to dig his own grave years ago."

"I suppose you're right," Slim answered with a sigh. "But he was still Troy's pa."

"Yeah," Jess dropped his head, the memory of her death not far from his mind. He understood the challenging emotions that Slim felt, for they were burning with enough intensity through his own heart.

"You hurt, Jess?" Slim asked as he reached towards the blood stain on Jess' shirt that the lake water hadn't had the ability to wash clean. Remembering Ezra's description of how he'd left Jess alone losing blood was reemphasized in seeing the mark on his partner's shoulder and his chest ached at the image from his mind that now met with the one that was real.

"Some," Jess answered with a slight nod. "I reckon I'll be all right soon enough."

"I guess there's a story on both of our ends in how it came down to this moment," Slim looked from Jess, to Ezra's lifeless body and then to where Virgil sat against a tree, half-dazed with pain. "But telling it will have to wait. Right now, we have some unpleasant duties to do."

An hour of time passed and the final stone was placed on top of Ezra's gravesite. Homer and Virgil sat side by side, tied and gagged, but nothing could hide the hatred that permeated from both of their bodies, with the most intensity coming from Homer. Virgil's eyes flashed the same fire as his brother, but his body was growing weaker with the blood that still flowed freely from his arm despite the tight compress Slim had tied in place, making his vows that hammered in his temples not as violent.

"Ready, Jess?" Slim asked after he stood silently over Ezra's grave. It was in respect that he'd retained his solemn position for several minutes after the burial was finished, but in a way, he was giving his heart what was owed for Troy as well, since her grave was one he'd never get a chance to see.

"Soon as they're mounted, we can move on towards Casper," Jess stopped in front of Homer and Virgil with both of the outlaw's horses. His gun was now held and it began to move, directing both men on the ground to get in their saddles.

Seeing the struggle that it took for Virgil to mount with his injured arm and tied hands, Slim stepped close to the man to help him get solidly seated on his horse. Watching the scene with his brother unfold nearby, Homer kept his feet to the ground, turning his head once Virgil was in the saddle to look at Jess, an expression of feigned weariness painted on his cheeks. Jess raised his eyebrows, but kept his gun in hand and then took a step closer to Homer to give him the same boost.

For a moment, only inches separated Homer's face and Jess'. Homer stared Jess in the eye, the noises coming from his gagged mouth were unintelligible, but the garble was so close to a growl, Jess didn't need an interpreter to know what he'd said. The message had been relayed loud and clear, the only thing bringing it to an abrupt end was Jess giving the man an extra shove, placing his backside firmly in the saddle. As Jess walked away from Homer, his foot finding his own stirrup, he could still feel the steely gaze attached to his back making a tingle form near the base of his neck and quiver all the way down to his bottom. The entire slowly walked trip to Casper, taking close to three hour's time, Jess couldn't shake the eerie feel that remained where Homer's eyes bore into him. It was strangely still present even after they'd arrived at their destination.

"That's done," Slim said after he exited the sheriff's office, looking up at Jess who still sat atop of his horse. "A doctor's taking care of Virgil and a lawman's taking care of them both. I guess all that's left to do is go home, unless you need to see the doctor too."

"If I needed a doc to take a look at me, I woulda done it a few days ago," Jess answered with a shrug.

"If you're sure," Slim waited until Jess nodded before he mounted his horse, "then there's nothing I'd like better to do than get on home."

Jess didn't answer, but just pulled his horse into the street, leading the way farther to the east than the main roadway that would eventually meet up with Laramie. Not long after they restarted on the trail, Slim moved his horse to walk alongside Jess' mount and there they stayed, together like it always should be, but as Jess fought with his inner turmoil, he knew that things weren't always what one viewed on the outside. The picture, if painted inside out, would show an entirely different scene.

"I'm guessing you know that Troy is dead," Slim said solemnly after a few miles had been put behind them.

"Yeah," Jess nodded, stealing a quick glance in Slim's direction to see his partner's expression was downcast, with a glistening hue of memories coming from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Slim."

"Me too," Slim nodded, his eyes flicking towards Jess, noticing his partner shared his remorseful look, but there was something definitely undefined that was hidden in the sharp blueness of his gaze.

"There's a lot to remember from her time in our lives," Jess spoke quietly, letting some of the things that had transpired between the two of them resurface in his mind, "but they ain't all bad."

"I know she wasn't perfect," Slim nodded, his voice full of emotion, "and her family was worse than vile, but I still cared. Love hadn't blossomed yet and I'll never know if it would have had the chance, but I still hold her memory dear."

Slim and Jess had shared many experiences since the beginning of their partnership together wrapped up in the darkest of nights and the sunniest of days. There had been no shortage of shared battles, even long before the challenge with the McCanles gang had begun. There were also the lighthearted times with a fair share of humor thrown into the mix. They shared the depths of their souls through discussions, bringing to light troubles that had been buried for years along with the shared conversations of their hopes for the future. They'd shared physical pain, heated arguments, mistrust and even their fears. And now they had shared a personal loss. Just like all of the other instances, this too would have the ability to draw them closer together in their friendship, but trouble, coming in multitudes, might not let their brotherly ties bind any farther.

"What happened, Jess?" Slim asked, bringing their bout of silence to an end.

"They came to the ranch looking for you," Jess recounted slowly, "but found me instead. Beat me, threatened to hang me, woulda killed me, but I wasn't about to tell them where you were. Then they put their fury into Ben to get what they wanted."

"Is he all right?" Slim asked, his immediate concern for their hired hand sounding in his voice and showing on his face.

"He'll have a headache for awhile," Jess nodded, "but he's too wiry to not pull through all right."

"I had no idea there would be so much trouble," Slim said with a frown. "You warned me about the McCanles gang, Jess. Next time, I promise I'll try to listen."

Next time. Jess' eyes only saw the ground moving underneath him as his head bowed low, unable to look ahead on the trail that would start to wind down as they were coming into more familiar territory. There couldn't be a next time between them, he wouldn't allow it. There were still too many loose ends trailing somewhere behind Jess that he couldn't let get picked up in Slim's presence. He'd already come close to losing Slim more than once because of an old tie to the McCanles gang. Jess was grateful that Slim was still alive, but every threat that had been made was, at least how Jess was wrongly viewing things, entirely his fault. Jess had to face up to the guilt he possessed, even if hurt worse than the knife that had stabbed into his flesh. For the knife of truth was placed inside of his heart.

During the hours before the gun battle with the McCanles gang, Jess had used nearly every second of his time to mull his troubled thoughts around in his head, but now that it was over, the time to make a final choice was now. While he'd stood in the lake, washing the wound that had been pierced for Slim's sake, Jess had endured the harsh thoughts that he'd heaped upon himself, but they weren't just created in the height of the anguished moments. They were real, just as real as the two of them riding side by side on the homeward trail. And the decision was the same.

"Something else bothering you, Jess?" Slim asked, not taking his eyes away from his partner, the trouble that he'd come to be rather acquainted with was loudly evident in his posture, expressions and even in his silence.

"Huh?" Jess' short reply matched the quizzical arc of his eyebrow, unsure of what his partner had said, except for the fact that his voice had the obvious ring of a question to it.

"I asked if something was wrong."

"Oh," Jess shrugged while putting on a fake smile. He kept his gaze straight ahead to avoid eye contact with Slim, for even without turning his head in Slim's direction he knew that his partner was studying the tension that radiated from his entire being."I reckon it's just that there's been so much that's been happening, none at all too good these past few days and it's sitting heavy in places is all."

Slim knew Jess better than what was explained, but he didn't prod his partner further. He wasn't suspecting that Jess had just told him a plain lie, but something closer to the fact that he wasn't telling an entire truth. He'd seen Jess walk away from several gunfights where strangers, enemies, and even old friends had been killed by his own hand and Jess hadn't been affected with so much sorrow that it showed like what was being displayed now. Jess always kept most of what raged on the inside silent, except for anger that he easily dispelled, but the tender things weren't always seen, except by his closest friend in the appropriate settings at the proper time. Slim didn't worry, for he knew that if Jess wanted to tell him what was pressing hard on his mind, he eventually would.

The final stretch to the ranch seemed to drag by slower than what it really was, yet nightfall was closing in on them when their horses came to a stop in front of the ranch house. Jud met them at the front door and asked few questions, as the word had already spread from the midday stage expressing at least a small portion of what had happened during their absence. He took his exit before the first star appeared in the sky, waving as he headed towards Laramie, leaving Slim and Jess alone, unaware that there was more trouble to be born that night.

Jess sat down abruptly in his favorite chair, his nervous gesture in full action as the time slipped closer to the hour of departure. He'd come to the point where there would be no turning back and Jess felt the rippling effect go through his body as if he'd already ridden away. Jess knew it would be a difficult task before he'd even come to this moment, but the way it was clawing at his insides, he would have rather faced the McCanles gang head on again than to continue to endure his private struggle.

"You going to bed?" Slim asked, breaking into Jess' stony thoughts as Slim started to unbutton his shirt.

"In a bit," Jess answered without turning his head. He inched closer to the fireplace as if his feet were feeling a chill, yet it wasn't just his toes, but his entire being that shivered, and the room was far from cold.

"All right, but don't stay up too late," Slim yawned and then stepped through the bedroom door. "Good night, Pard."

"'Night," it was whispered, so silently that Jess was the only one that heard. The word, at least to Jess, was more like a farewell, and it was as close as he would get from uttering the ultimate parting cry.

Jess sat silently in his chair until the fire began to turn into glowing coals. He had already packed his meager belongings while Slim was cleaning away their dirty dishes which left only one more thing before he could allow his roots to be ripped from the ground. He stepped to the edge of the fireplace and lifted the secret lid, revealing his hidden gun. Fingering the shiny pistol, Jess remembered how it was put away, supposedly for good, the very first time it was laid there and then Jess slid the white handled gun into his holster, noticing that it somehow felt heavier, or perhaps, it was just the added burden that he wore. Jess was skilled in many ways of fighting, not just with the symbolic gun, inasmuch that he could even be described as a professional, but when it came to the fights that formed within a man, he felt inadequately equipped.

Blowing out the lamp, he took one last look around the house and then he walked out the door, his ties being shredded one after the other with each step that he took farther away. Jess never said goodbye during any of the times that he'd ridden away from the ranch before and he couldn't say it now. The word was too defining, too final to say aloud as if forming the word on his lips made it more than the end. But this time, it really was. He was saddened to admit that there had been several different instances when he'd made the attempt to pull out before because his troubles, like now, refused to let go. Most of those times, Slim hadn't been far behind him, steering him back in the right direction, because it was easy to be swayed by a partner's honest plea. This was why he chose the late hour of night to take his last ride away from the ranch. Slim was asleep, so there wouldn't be the shouting of his name, calling him back to bring him home.

He had his coat on, his horse was saddled, he just needed to mount up and then he would be ready to go. Jess heaved a great sigh and pushed his hat farther back on his head. It shouldn't have ended like this, but he wasn't sorry there had been a beginning, because what had come between the two major points in his life had been the greatest stretch of time of his life and despite the hollowness that he now felt, it all hadn't been for nothing. Jess Harper was a greater man because he'd had Slim Sherman for a friend. He wouldn't get to ask Slim if the same could be said of him, but somehow, he knew it was.

And now it was over. It had to be, for Slim's wellbeing. Slim shouldn't have to keep handling a basket full of rattlesnakes that were only intended for a man with a troubled past, otherwise, he'd wind up getting fatally bit. If Jess hadn't kept repeating his reason in his head, he would have given in and walked back inside of the house like nothing had ever happened, but he kept his feet planted in the opposite direction instead. His walking away without a promise of a return meant that their partnership would truly be severed. In his heart, Jess would still call Slim, "Pard," but without their being together, the title of friendship wouldn't have the same meaning. What Slim and Jess had was far greater than what Jess' unsettled mind could see, but pain and the fears that came with it had a way of marring what was quite clear.

Jess hopped into the saddle, his head was bowed slightly, but his eyes went back to the front door only to see that it remained closed. His mouth unable to form a parting smile, Jess tipped his hat and then his horse began to move. The hour was late, the house was completely dark and the surrounding land was unusually silent as if it all knew the sadness that was being formed in their midst as a lone rider started to drift.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Slim awoke just after the sun had said "good morning" to the land, stretching in his bunk as he opened his eyes. His fingers came up to his face to rub the sleep that still clung to him, but it was those same hands that blocked his view of the bed beside him, preventing him from noticing its emptiness. He rolled over, ready to get his body back into the motion of the ranch work that he'd missed and hoped his partner was ready to do the same.

"Are you planning on staying in bed all day?" Slim asked after a large yawn, his pause long enough for an answer to be given, but there was none. "Jess?"

It was then that Slim's head turned directions, his full attention now on the barren bed that was next to his own. There were a few questions that instantly came to mind, but none that held the caliber of concern that actually belonged there. The bed was too neatly made to even think for a moment that his partner had risen before the sun to start into the impressive workload that was ahead of them. It would have been more accurate to place a logical guess that Jess was still in his chair or stretched out on the couch. Slim knew that Jess was physically hurting more than he'd insinuated and likely carried an exhaustion to match and dropping to sleep in the other room could have easily happened, especially since it was an event that had occurred before. Slim rubbed a hand through his hair, almost dismissing Jess' absence in the bedroom, but his vision latched onto something across from where he sat, bringing the first alarm to ring in his head.

The top dresser drawer was slightly ajar, and even though their house was home to a couple of bachelors where neatness didn't always count, drawers, cupboards and doors were usually kept shut. Standing up and stepping close to it, Slim pulled the knobs to bring it completely open, but he wasn't prepared for what the action would bring. He might not have been wearing anything more than a top and bottom pair of long johns and a normal chill would be expected, but his body suddenly went as cold as if a north wind had just burst through an open door. Jess didn't own much, but what he did keep was usually folded, or better described as haphazardly stuffed, into that one small space. It was empty.

Slim stepped through the bedroom door, his bare feet covering the span to the front door in three strides. The peg that held Jess' hat, coat and gun belt stuck out from the wall, its unadorned presence that stood out among the others showed that it was strikingly alone. He opened the front door and leaned out and although everything appeared as it should on a normal morning, everything seemed strangely out of place. Even the chickens that ran around looking for their morning feed didn't have the same hilarious squawk to their throats. Slim shook his head, his mind reeling for answers, but none held any realistic sense. Slim turned back inside, his aim towards the bedroom but a quick glance to the fireplace made his chest give a hard thump with additional fear.

It took Slim an accentuated amount of time to cross the room as his bare feet moved as slowly as they ever had, but it was his hand that reached for the concealed cubby that seemed to move the slowest and it stopped still when his fingers touched the wooden bottom. The hidden gun, Jess' gunfighter's gun, the one that he'd worn on his hip the day that they had met one another, the starkest image of Jess' past, was gone. There was only one reason why the weapon would have been removed and Slim suddenly felt sickened that he'd just discovered its hard truth.

Slim returned to the bedroom, his eyes easily drawn to the only bed in the room that hadn't been slept in, the reality of what it really meant was hard for him to shake. He quickly dressed, as running around in his underwear had never been something he was accustomed to do, and then he strode outside. As Slim walked to the barn he held onto a small shred of hope that he would find Jess still there and even if he was intending to leave, for whatever reason he held in his mind for making an attempt, Slim knew if he had a chance he could talk his partner out of his decision. Jess had given him a scare on more than one occasion before, but Slim had always been there to persuade him to stay, because as they both had long ago learned, this was where Jess belonged. But as soon as Slim stepped through the barn door, those hopes were dashed. The stall that had held his horse was empty, swept clean of every trace of dirt, hay or manure, like it had never even been there. Jess, like his horse, like his gun, like everything that he owned, was gone.

"Why, Jess?" Slim turned around and promptly exited the barn. He stopped in the middle of the yard, his eyes scanning over every inch of land that he could see, but what he looked for, and the answer to his question, was nowhere in sight.

Slim walked into the house and sat down at the table. His hands coming into a fold, he dropped his head so that his mouth and nose touched his clasped hands, as his mind rapidly began to search for a clue as to why he was suddenly left all alone. The only recent evidence he had involved the McCanles gang, but he knew there would be nothing found in the center of a well fought gun battle. With nothing else to point to, Slim focused his thoughts on the last day that he'd shared with Jess, noting specifically the details of Jess' intentionally covered up emotions. The more Slim sharpened his focus on their ride home, he easily could visualize everything in a better view how Jess had been hiding something, and if he hadn't been going through his own torrent of emotional trauma at the same time, he could have touched on it more than he had. Jess had been quiet, his comments short without much tonal changes to his voice, his eyes had been dark, his face set in stone and his entire body, although sitting solidly on his horse, had seemed like he was stuck out on a rocky ledge. Even though Slim had found that there was truly something there in front of him, putting a finger on the identifying mark was a whole different thought process.

Slim knew Jess better than anyone else he'd ever known. They were more than best friends, more than partners, some stagecoach passengers had even mistaken them for brothers, although the way they felt towards one another, their assumptions were close to being correct. Slim knew that because of their tight relationship, he would have a greater chance at figuring out where the missing pieces of his puzzle should go than if he was trying to sort through anyone else's dilemma. But if there would be a hitch in putting it all together correctly, it would lay in the complexity that was the depths of Jess' character. Despite being best friends, there were parts of Jess that were still unknown and likely always would be.

There was one thing that was completely clear to see. Jess' loyalty ran deeper than anything else that worked around on his insides and Slim knew he could always count on Jess in times of trouble. Slim didn't have to probe too far into his past to know that Jess would protect him, shield him, or prevent any type of harm from coming his way. Jess had taken it upon his own shoulders more than once to fight Slim's battles, to make sure that when bullets stopped flying that Slim would remain healthy and strong, even if Jess himself was flattened in the battles. But it wasn't just at the height of danger that Jess displayed his devotion to Slim, but it was in the day to day normalcy of their lives as well. He'd used his own money for Slim's expenses, he'd gone without when Slim had gone without, he'd give his shirt off of his back if it was needed, he'd listened and learned and did his own amount of teaching in return. He was a good man and an even better friend. Surely Jess knew it as well, but then why did he leave?

Slim's mind kept returning to the faces of the McCanles gang, figuring that the family from Jess' past was at the center of what was changing their future. The only parts of the recent encounter with the outlaws that Slim had been involved with was the gunfight, leaving everything else put into a pile of the unknown. Something could have easily happened before the fight that Jess refused to mention that was affecting everything that happened after it was over. Slim knew that Jess had been on the worst end of the McCanles gang's wrath before they'd met up with him, giving them plenty of time to shove their vengeance down his throat. But Jess had not responded in fury because any threat that they had made to him directly, but what was aimed at Slim made him fully react. Had there been other threats made that Jess didn't bring to light? Yet, even if the McCanles gang had issued another threat to Slim's life it would have turned to nothingness with Ezra dead and his two sons behind bars. Who else could threaten him? There was no one else involved. Only Jess.

Jess' presence was the threat? Slim bit his lip, the truth so close that he could taste it and its bitterness made him shudder. Slim took a deep breath and as he slowly exhaled, the reason behind Jess' departure seeped out with it. Jess himself wasn't the threat, but his past was. And that was it. The answer didn't come to Slim with any gratifying emotion that he'd found what he was looking for, but what settled into his inner core, was sadness. In every hardship that Slim endured since welcoming a drifter into his home, with the McCanles gang sitting at the highest peak of it, Jess was blaming himself, but Slim didn't blame him at all.

"Oh, Jess, it wasn't your fault," Slim said aloud, although there was no way that the walls of his home could transfer the message across the wide stretch of land into Jess' ears.

Slim abruptly stood, shaking his head back and forth he began to pace the floor between the bedroom and the kitchen. There was no anger raging inside of him at Jess for taking off without first talking over his troubles. All of the other times that Jess had tried to run away from his past, leaving the ranch and the life that he'd grown to love behind him, he had never said goodbye, never left a message, with his only note being the final departure. Like those other instances, Slim understood Jess' reasoning, perhaps now more than ever before, but in that understanding there wasn't an ounce of willingness to let him go. All of Jess' past had become his present, but he wouldn't reject it, or his friend.

A familiar noise caught Slim's attention, bringing everything around him into a clearer focus beyond his own troubles. He stepped to the door and looked out, the first stage of the morning rolling down the slope to the house. Mose sat in the driver's seat, the familiarity of the sight telling Slim that work needed to be done, even if he didn't feel like swapping stories with the old timer or pouring coffee for any of the passengers, which Slim was thankful once the coach came to a halt, was only one. He intended to get the stagecoach back on the road as quickly as possible, but Mose being Mose, wouldn't step too far out of his way.

"Hear the news out of Casper this morning?" Mose asked, leaning his head closer to Slim's as he worked.

"How could I?" Slim asked with more bite to his voice than he intended. "You're the first stage through here."

"No point getting uppity," Mose harrumphed. "I just thought you'd be interested to know that one of them McCanles fellows escaped from jail in the night."

"What?"

"I thought I was the one with poor hearing," Mose rubbed his ear and then repeated the news to Slim, even more slowly than how it came out the first time.

"Homer or Virgil?" Slim held his breath as he waited for Mose to answer although he figured it probably didn't matter, since both men were equally as dangerous.

"Didn't hear that part, just that there was quite the ruckus," Mose answered, turning to look at Slim, but found that the rancher was walking away at a swift pace towards the barn. "Hey, aren't you gonna finish changing the team?" Mose stared at Slim's back for a few seconds, shaking his head with a frown when there wasn't an answer. He turned to the passenger of the westbound stage and shrugged as if the man that patiently waited had followed their conversation. "I guess not."

Slim readied his horse in the barn as the noises outside told him that Mose and the stagecoach were on their way to Laramie. Slim knew without any confirmation that the escaped McCanles was Homer. Virgil's injury, although not life threatening, would have kept him sidelined, although not so much that he couldn't aid in a jailbreak. Slim could almost see the two brothers conspiring together, one helping the other just so that one of them could run free to finish the vile deeds that they'd set out to do. It was no secret that the McCanles gang had staked their lives on the duties of revenge, but now it wasn't just the loss of Troy leading their family loyalties anymore, but their own father's death. They would want returned blood, but whose? Two bullets took down Ezra, and either one could be deemed as the fatal blow, but there was an additional factor that swayed the mark heavily in Jess' direction. Homer's hatred for Jess ran deep, if there was going to be a target, it would be fully placed upon Jess before it was thrown in his direction again.

Homer would be coming for Jess. Before this news had hit him square in the chest, Slim could only imagine how Jess had felt when he'd learned through Ben's whispered lips that the McCanles gang had found the secret to finding Slim, until now. He felt like his every step was taken through fire, steam rising from his head showing the heat that ignited into his being with nothing to squelch its burning. Jess was in danger and Slim responded in the same manner as Jess had reacted to his own threat, except that Jess had known right where to go. Slim still had to look at Jess' whereabouts with a mysterious question mark as his prone to wander friend could have ridden anywhere.

Slim mounted, knowing that before he could leave he needed Jud back at the ranch, but after he knew his job at the relay station was in good hands, Slim turned his horse in a straight course, riding steadily northward. Jess could have gone in any direction, but there was only one direction that Homer would be taking, south. If Jess headed north, there would be no need for the fugitive outlaw to search very hard for the man he was after, as a collision course was likely what would enfold. If he was wrong about Jess going north, Slim knew the consequences would be that he would have to face Homer alone, but that anxious thought didn't keep residence in his mind for long. What really mattered was Jess. If he'd gone south, east, west, or any of the invisible lines in between, Jess' safety was certain and no matter what it would take, Slim intended for it to stay that way.

Jess' life meant everything to Slim, just as Jess had shown how important Slim's life was by the sacrifice he was willing to make for him. Slim had his own motivation going strong inside of him, as he was willing to face Homer alone for the life of his partner. But the farther Slim took his mount in a northerly direction, the more he began to realize that alone on the path he would not remain, as an obvious fresh trail leading off of the northernmost tip of his ranch was clearly laid out in front of him.

There was a place on the trail, a location that for one man, still pointed to the south, for another man, a fair piece ahead to the north, and yet for the third man, it was a resting spot. There weren't equal proportions separating each, for the one to the north was decidedly closer than the one to the south, but a common factor that was shared was that no one knew that the others were anywhere near, but once certain presence was made known, the place would become dangerously significant on otherwise ordinary ground.

He had fled from his troubles in the night and as the hours wore on without sleep, the exhaustion that weighed him down threatened to topple him out of the saddle. Already taking a fall in the same plight before, despite that it was a central part in the afternoon, he stopped his traveling to find some rest, even if sleep wouldn't fully touch him. Jess laid on the ground without his bedroll, his head barely propped up by his arms that were underneath him and as he closed his eyes, he thought of Slim. His partner would be fully aware of his absence and Jess couldn't help but wonder what range of emotions had settled upon Slim's already worn out shoulders. He knew what it had done to himself. The burden, the fatigue and the pain, both seen and unseen, had weakened him and it was enough that he found deep darkness. An hour into his sleep, he was no longer alone.

He had found a horse to steal, not the strongest of mounts, but one that would get him to a distance of twelve miles outside of Laramie, but what he'd just stumbled upon made the continued trip no longer necessary. The man held no weapon, since it was from a jail cell that he'd broken free from where guns and ammunition were withheld, that is, except for what he could ball into fists. There was enough retaliation in just those two hands that they could be considered as powerful as a bullet, knife or rope and he would use them, in any way he could to get what he wanted. Homer smiled wickedly, for the situation couldn't have played out any more perfectly as the one he wanted the most was right in front of him. It was the middle of the day, yet his victim was sound asleep.

The rider continued a well paced trek to the north, his eyes constantly searching for something that didn't belong as his ears listened for anything that would break the uncomfortable silence that surrounded him. He had a strange feeling that something was about to go wrong, like how a man often felt a quiver run up and down his spine just before being attacked, but it was not for his own being that the trepidation was for. Slim hurried forward, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he covered the land, fearing that his partner was still too far ahead of him to save.

From where he sat poised in waiting, Homer flexed his hands open and closed, the time of his vow ready to be fulfilled. He crept from his position, his every step taken in slow, silent strides he didn't stop until he stood over Jess Harper's still body. His next move was performed in the memories of those that he'd lost as his clutched hands struck forcefully alongside of an unsuspecting head, drawing blood with the violent blow. His hands, now ready to kill, wrapped tightly around the neck, cutting off the vital flow of air, and the ultimate fight had begun.

But the fight would never be won or lost alone. From a short distance behind where the two men struggled, a single shout ripped through the air, "Jess!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jess awoke on impact, the sharp pain radiating through his head was strong enough that it failed to register what was happening to his throat until the fingers began to press more firmly into his neck. He sputtered a cough, the choking spasms intensifying as he struggled to breathe at the same time that he tried to retaliate. Jess' normal ability to fight with everything that he had in him was considerably lessened as the blow to the side of his head left him so dazed that he could barely focus on the man's bright red face that hovered over him. He knew it was Homer McCanles, but the fuzziness that filled his brain couldn't comprehend a single thought beyond what was visually in front of him and what was actually happening to him.

Jess pushed his hands up into Homer's chest, but the way Homer straddled him, it made it nearly impossible to get enough leverage to shove him aside. Jess then attempted to roll his body over with the thought that Homer would get rocked to the side as well, hoping that the tight grip around his throat would be loosened, but his strength was nearly gone, and not over an inch of space he could move. Jess felt the hands squeeze even tighter on his throat and the struggle for air became all too real. Flashes of light bounced between bursts of darkness as he wavered on the edge of consciousness, but then he heard a shout. It was Slim.

For a moment, Jess reveled in the feeling of being saved, for he knew that his partner wouldn't let McCanles complete his death grip, but then as another wave of darkness washed over him, Jess let the reality steal away his hope. It couldn't be Slim, he was too far away. Jess had left him alone back at the ranch without a word, without a trace. _Slim_ , Jess couldn't form his partner's name as his speech was literally stolen from his throat, so he called out from the depths of his soul as his life began to fade, _I'm sorry, Slim._

"Jess!" Slim's voice did little to put an end to the ferocity that was placed into Homer's hands. The man's eyes barely turned to find where the call had come from, his body language showing that even if he knew that Slim Sherman was almost upon him that he didn't even care.

Slim pulled his gun before his horse had even come to a complete stop. He leapt from the saddle and burst through the scraggly brush, pointing the gun ahead of him, not allowing his arm to waver despite the sudden tremors of terror that struck him with the violent image that was in front of him. Slim inhaled a slight breath to steady his whole body, knowing that his aim would have to be perfect. Jess' body was dangerously close to Homer's, there couldn't be a miss, and it couldn't wait another second. Slim pulled the trigger and as the report made the air tremble all around them, at the same moment, Jess' body went limp.

The gunshot that Slim could somehow still hear brought the release of Homer's strangulating hold on Jess' neck, but as if the hands had been wrapped around his own throat, Slim stood still, not moving, not breathing. Homer turned, his steely eyes piercing into Slim's, he then began to smile, and for a dreadful moment, Slim feared that the bullet from his gun had hit Jess. But then Homer began to sway and as he tried to stand to his feet, Slim saw the blood pooling through his shirt along his left side. Slim took a step towards Homer, keeping his gun poised on the man lest he make another attempt to touch Jess, but there was nothing else the outlaw would do. Homer could hold himself upright no longer and his body collapsed, landing in a crumpled heap right next to Jess.

Homer was dead, and Slim held no certainty that Jess wasn't the same. With legs that felt like they were made of mush, Slim walked up to Jess' motionless body, his eyes running ahead of him searching for a sign of life still residing inside of his partner. He saw Jess' chest rise nearly at the same time a quiet wheeze escaped through his lips. Slim breathed a sigh of relief, thanking God, for Jess was alive. Slim's eyes turned to Homer, noting the evidence that the bullet had tore completely through him, exiting out his other side. Slim gently moved Homer's body away from Jess, somehow still able to show respect for a killer that could have become a relative as he separated the dead from the alive. But after that action was taken, his entire focus was where it needed to be.

"Jess," Slim dropped to his knees next to his partner, the relief that Jess still breathed rushed into his being, but there was enough worry still firmly in place that kept his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Jess looked helpless and frail, the fragile image that was his normally tough as nails partner made Slim tremble, knowing how frighteningly close he'd come to losing him.

Slim pulled his handkerchief away from his neck and doused it with the water from Jess' canteen that had been propped against a rock close by. The wound alongside Jess' face near his temple was cracked open, fresh blood mixing with what had already dried still seeped into his hair and dripped down his face. Jess' cheeks were ashen, making the blood that poured down to his mouth seem even more menacingly brighter than it was. Slim squeezed out the excess water from the kerchief and then started cleaning around the pulsating gash, touching his partner gently to avoid giving him further pain.

With the blood slowed enough that it was no longer coming out in a stream, Slim put the handkerchief aside, ready to address another wound. Slim carefully untied Jess' own neckerchief and then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, giving him a less constricted space to breathe in. Slim touched Jess' swollen neck, feeling for anything that indicated a more serious injury than just the angry purple hues that circled it and then as his fingers continued to probe closer to his jaw line, a moan rumbled through Jess' closed mouth as he began to arouse. Slim saw his eyes flutter, but they didn't stay open longer than a brief second as he continued to waver on the line of complete darkness.

Jess could barely swallow, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to speak. His mouth didn't even want to move when his brain gave the command, but produced a deep, guttural sound from somewhere in his throat instead. He opened his eyes to mere slits but brought them to a quick close and despite the thick fog that marred most of his senses, something familiar registered from what he'd seen. There had been a face, but not like the last face that he'd seen, which was full of red, seething hatred. He remembered seeing eyes that were so cold they could have belonged to a dead man, but the sinister brown was no longer there, but blue. Someone was with him, looking upon him with compassion, helping him, giving him comfort and care. There was more than just a glimpse of kindness, but it was a feeling that surrounded him, touched him, and settled inside of him, resembling a friendship that was like no other. Right at that moment, Jess knew.

"Slim?" Jess' shaky voice spoke softly and then was followed by a painful cough. His eyes stayed pressed closed, but his entire being, including a hand that was being raised into the air, searched for the one that he called.

"I'm right here, Jess," Slim wrapped his hand around the outstretched one of his partner and felt a gentle squeeze in return, the connection between the two men being seared anew in that clasp.

"Slim," there was no longer a question, but a gentle release of his name like a sigh. Jess tried to swallow the thickness in his throat, but the action only produced another cough.

"It's all right, Jess," Slim touched his partner's lips with fingertips that he'd sprinkled with water and leaned his head closer to not miss any of his words. "I've got you, Pard."

"How?" Jess barely produced the sound after his tongue tasted the droplets around his mouth.

"You didn't think I was really going to let you leave, did you?" Slim saw Jess' eyelids rise and watched the expressions on his face change from confusion, to sadness, to trust and finally to understanding, but none were without the obvious pain that he felt. "It's a good thing I came, too."

"Is he?" Jess turned his head, but the movement caused enough discomfort in his neck that he could only see a pair of boots that belonged to Homer.

"Yeah," Slim nodded. "Another member of the McCanles gang is gone. They're not going to hurt us anymore." Slim didn't know if Jess caught the emphasis in his choice of words, not pointing to one or the other being the brunt of the McCanles wrath, but referencing them both together had been intentional. Virgil, Slim knew was the last living member, but after he had his day in court, there would be little left of him to worry about.

"Slim, I…" Jess coughed, unable to continue, his face showing every ounce of pain that wracked through his throat, burning down into his lungs.

"You don't have to try to talk, Jess," Slim said soothingly, adding clean water to the handkerchief to wash the blood that had started oozing again down Jess' face. "Just rest."

Jess winced, but didn't recoil under Slim's touch. He followed Slim's movements with his eyes and then as Slim's hands worked the cool cloth around his neck, he switched his gaze to see Slim's face, noting every natural expression that a friend should have in a dire situation such as this, except there was no anger anywhere. Jess was thankful for everything, and his inability to speak more than one word at a time was a real illustration that his gratitude was more than words could even express. Slim had just saved his life and now was tending to him like he was a roughed up, mischievous kid. Aside from a well intentioned doctor, no man had ever done what Slim was now doing and his respect and admiration for Slim intensified, their bonds being held tighter than ever before. But at the same moment, Jess still fed his doubts, because nothing was different. His past was still the same, full of blemishes and dirt. No matter how much Slim cleaned away the blots on his outside, nothing could touch what was inside. And yet, everything felt different. How could a waterlogged hankie wipe away his guilt and fear? It couldn't, but Slim's friendship could, and it was doing a mighty good job of cleaning the inner stains.

There was no better way to convince Jess of Slim's devotion than what was being displayed at that moment. Slim took a reminder out of the pages of his own life, when he was only eight and he'd ran away from home and applied it to Jess, doing exactly what his pa had done for him. When Slim had decided his youthful life wasn't giving him enough room to spread his wings, he took off for parts unknown, only to find himself lost and injured on the trail a few miles away from home, an easy find for a searching father and a worried mother. Slim might have only been a few years older than Jess, but as his hands washed his partner's wounds, he saw in himself an image of his parents, giving a wayward boy a loving touch without any reprimand, showing a family bond that would never be broken, not by time, not by distance and most importantly, not by life's challenges.

"Thanks, Slim," Jess whispered when Slim set aside the handkerchief, his meaning going well beyond the surface that was in the tending of his wounds.

"Anytime, Pard," Slim replied with a smile and then he turned his head towards the dead man, as there was another task that needed to be performed.

Slim buried Homer, leaving a similar marker that he'd placed at the gravesite of the man's father, still finding his mind going backwards to the unknown grave where Troy somewhere lay, knowing that he would never forget her memory. When he finished his moments of silence, the sun was sinking far into the western horizon, and he knew there would be no more traveling that night. He looked at the darkening sky with a positive view, for it was giving the necessary excuse, not just to allow an injured man to rest, but giving an opportunity for the two partners to settle down for the night to resolve the separation that had taken place when Jess had ridden away.

Once the darkness completely swallowed up the last of the light, Jess was now, in his opinion, far enough away from the brinks of suffering that pampering was no longer necessary, so he pulled himself to his feet and readied his afternoon campsite into a more appropriate overnight one. With his body more comfortably at rest with his back leaning into his saddle, Jess sipped at a cup of coffee, still wincing with each swallow, but without enough pain to prevent him from being able to produce his normal voice at more length than what he'd used before. He was grateful for its return, especially since Slim was about to open the discussion that was far overdue for them to have.

"I don't have to ask why you left, Jess," Slim began after Jess declined another blanket that he offered. "I want you to know that I don't hold any bitter feelings towards you because you did so."

"You mean you know why I lit out and you ain't gonna give me an earful?" Jess asked, leaning closer to Slim with astonishment touching each feature of his face.

"Oh," Slim raised an eyebrow and drew half of a smile, "I suppose I might give you some words to fill your ear, but I won't go to twisting it off."

"You think I was wrong, don't you?" Jess asked as he began to fidget, as if he knew he was going to be told he made a mistake and have to admit it.

"Do you?"

"It ain't wrong to do ones best to protect a man," Jess said, still defending his cause, especially when the man he was determined to protect was Slim.

"No, Jess," Slim shook his head, not sure at the moment what else to say, "it's not."

They both lapsed into silence, the next few minutes passing by while they each were held in deep thought. Jess, if he would have admitted it, which he wasn't figuring on doing, still struggled with the churning thoughts inside of him as he continued to think of the same reasons why he should keep to a northerly course once daylight broke. Slim, and he would have readily admitted his thoughts aloud, was worried that Jess had on his mind exactly what swirled around inside of him. It was in silence that they stayed, but none of it was spent filled with tension, and despite the questions with unknown answers that each mind focused on, a peacefulness filled the air that was brought on by nothing except the familiarity of their companionship.

They were the type of men that could fill an entire evening full of conversation about bronc busting and the bruises that came in odd places when an attempt was failed, cattle branding, along with how to fix the iron that did the deed when it broke, fitting a shoe on a finicky pony and how it smarted where it had kicked, all the way to how attractive the new schoolmarm in Laramie was or wasn't. Yet they were just as comfortable in each other's presence in complete silence, whether it was due to concentration on adding every number in a multitude of columns, to mending a hole in an already patched shirt or trying to close a gaping opening at the toe of a stained sock, or just relaxing together in the cool, evening air, when the stars were at their perfect brightness, closing out a day in brotherly bliss. It was because of their close bond where each situation, whether it was the same daily routine or something extremely different, always seemed to fit. And it was because of this, that Slim knew he needed to make sure it would continue.

"Jess, what would you do if your past wasn't full of shadows and mine was?" Slim asked as he sat down near the fire, but was still a close distance to Jess.

"But that ain't how it is, Slim, I'm the…" Jess started to object but Slim put up a hand to stop him.

"Imagine that it was," Slim said, his eyes staring into the flames as if he were envisioning that alternate life. "What would you do?"

"I reckon I'd," Jess paused, knowing exactly what he would do and the reality of the picture that Slim was painting for him to see was great and impossible to ignore. He looked down to the tips of his boots that glowed in the light from the fire, afraid that his cheeks were finally finding color again, gaining too much rosy hue too quickly. "Well, I'd stick with you no matter what."

"And that's exactly how I feel about you," Slim turned his head away from the fire, his eyes not meeting with Jess', but satisfied in the expression that he saw on his face. "We're partners, Jess. No one can separate that, not even ourselves."

"But what if…?"

"We could write a list of 'what ifs' from now until next year at this time, but they wouldn't change a thing," Slim said with honesty and then added a slight pause for greater emphasis on a significant question. "Do you know why?"

"We're loyal," Slim and Jess said in unison, the symbolism in speaking together not being missed by either of them.

"Now," Slim waited until Jess looked him in the eye before continuing, "come daybreak, am I going to have to keep on following you along the drifter's trail, or are we going to go home?"

"Home," the answer was spoken with assurance, but it also softly echoed like a promise.

The morning light brought a pair of horses to be greeted together, saddled together, and then rode together, their course in a now well-marked trail in a southerly direction that would eventually meet with a corner tip of a ranch that was home to both. The horses sensed their master's enthusiasm as soon as their hooves touched Sherman property, but nothing the animals showed in their increased speed towards the familiar barn that awaited them could compare with the glow that emanated between the two men that rode them. The land itself responded to the scene, with the sun full and warm with just the hint of a perfect breeze that swayed the branches of the trees in a welcoming gesture while every meandering stream gurgled their pleasure because of the return of Slim and Jess. It was how it should be, always, coming home side by side, with cares and concerns or without them, just as long as they were together in a home where loyalty always resided.


End file.
